


Identity (God of War)

by Farore



Category: God of War (Video Games), God of War 2018
Genre: Action/Adventure, Death, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Love Triangles, Mental Anguish, Mind the Rating, Multi, Multiple Pov, Romance, Time Travel, Tragedy, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-07-10 17:11:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 23,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15953846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Farore/pseuds/Farore
Summary: Set 5 years from God of War 2018.Atreus' mother set in motion the events leading up to an early - unexpected Ragnarok.Did she do this to punish the gods?Or give her son the ability to break free of something?





	1. Prologue

Kratos slammed the toe of the Leviathan into the ground, leaning into the oak haft and slowly rising up from his knees to face the unyielding lightning head on. His resilience, despite his old age, produced a slight tug on the lips of the god of thunder.  
Their battle engulfed all of Kratos’ concentration, giving little attention to the catastrophic world around him. The sun and moon were almost completely devoured by the wolves that haunted his dreams decades ago, leaving little to no light for the two gods to see clearly. Kratos rushes forward to strike his opponent, running past three decapitated roosters and a massive black wolf.

Atreus sat paralyzed in mourning next to the wolf, his hands trembling in rage as he knelt beside the dead beast. “This- this is all my fault.” His voice was low and somber, reflecting his pain. By his side, his bow lay shattered and torn in the snow, while his father’s knife stayed tightly gripped in his hands. The trauma of the last nightmarish hour left his body unable to loosen his grip, with the blood of Heimdall dripping off the blade onto his pale skin. It seeped underneath his fingernails and down his arms, staining him a deep, dark crimson.  
Atreus only removes his attention from the dead wolf when Jörmungandr calls out for help in their shared language.

“T h i s i s a l l t o o s o o n. P l e a s e, y o u m u s t f i n d S u r t, i t i s t h e o n l y w a y. F a t h e -“

Before he could finish, Odin exploded out from the serpent's neck. The beast roars out in pain, but the hole left in his airway dampens his last reverberated cry.

“NO!” Atreus cries out for his best friend as he watches him slump over onto the mountains, lifeless. As he fell, Odin rushed through his left eye and out the back of his skull, leaving the scene forever burned into Atreus’ mind.  
Before Atreus could even produce tears, Odin landed in front of him. The unconscious head of Mimir could be seen dangling from the god’s hip, both eyes missing from his dark, sullen sockets. In a fit of rage, Atreus angled his knife and lunged towards the old man. Odin quickly dodges the strike, only for something to suddenly catch his attention-- an explosion of blue thunder. It engulfed the sky and harshly lit up the dark land, showing just how apocalyptic the world has truly become. Earthquakes sundered the ground into chunks, revealing bottomless pits of certain death below. All life and vegetation gone from the world, with the dark and bloodied bodies piled high as the endless snow itself.

“You… You fool!” Odin screams. Atreus looks over to see his father, holding the severed head of Thor. The plump rolls of his cheeks sink inwards as the yellow fatty deposits swirl with his red blood, down his protruding spinal cord. It all collects into a puddle onto the ruined ground at his father’s feet.  
Odin clenched his jaw and quickly snatched the back of Atreus’ neck with his long bony fingers, the teenager gasping for air as he was lifted upwards.  
“Put him down!” Atreus hears his father scream. His long auburn hair busts out from his bun and flaps down the front of his face, with several of his dreadlock braids smacking down into his cheek. The rest of his loose hair atop his head falls, covering his eyes and causing him temporary blindness as it whips violently in the storm. Suddenly, his father’s red tattoo- the one that influenced Atreus' own version- faded from his vision.

Then, all vision itself shifted from binocular to something that caused his head to ache. His brain struggled to process how to combine the image together, almost as if his eyes were seeing two separate things simultaneously. The last thing he saw in front of him was a horrid expression on his father’s face, then, he felt the weight of a man sit atop his spine. A knee dug into his rib cage and drove Atreus to move towards his father. He picked up one leg, then his second, then his third, his fourth, his fifth, his sixth, his seventh and then eighth, rushing forward at an increasing speed. As Atreus galloped towards his father unwillingly, he sees Odin’s spear pointed downwards- aiming for his father’s heart. He opens his mouth to warn him to flee, but instead of words, a harsh bray escapes his throat.

Helplessly, Atreus watches Odin pierce Gungnir through his father’s heart. 

His own sinks into his stomach, with rage beginning to taking its place. Odin grips the hair atop his head and yanks his face upwards and to the side, removing the spear from his chest and aiming it at his face. Kratos kept his eyes focused on Odin, his enemy. Gripping his blades tightly in both hands, he retains full control of his emotions and tempered his rage, even in the face of such a chaotic and tragic atmosphere. This is exactly what he had been trying to teach Atreus what to do. Even after the rocky week they had after Heimdall told him of his true past in Sparta, of the sister he never got to meet- after all their toxic back and forth, his father was still determined to risk his life for him. Atreus loved him. His imperfect idol, his teacher, his father.

The tip of Odin’s spear drives through the center of the God of War’s eyes and out the back of his skull.

Atreus was engulfed in rage. His body was desperately trying to, once again, shed its human form and transform into a full embodiment of his anger. But thanks to this new body Odin imprisoned him in, he couldn’t release his fury upon the god who killed his father.  
His eyes couldn’t produce the tears his emotions demanded. They remained inside his mind, threatening to drown him from within. At that moment, he saw a shimmer of golden fur dash before him into a pile of bodies off to the left side of him.  
A beam of yellow light surrounded the top of Gungnir as Odin removed the spear from Kratos’ limp, dead body, engulfing the entire spearheaded into a blinding golden bubble. Atreus felt all eight of his legs suddenly become bound together as roots erupted from the ground below him, holding him in place. The light sundered Odin’s spear from its staff, leaving Odin speechless as he threw himself off Atreus’ back and lifted his eyes into the sky.

"Freya."

With her sword in hand and her golden valkyrie wings extended to their full capacity, she drove forth to strike Odin. Her face was covered by her massive golden helmet, her lips, and cheeks visible to the elements. Damp charcoal black lines dripped down her cheeks as she disappeared into a blur with Odin himself. The two battle viciously in the nightmarish sky above.

Atreus struggled to move while tied down by the vines. He sidesteps slightly, trying not to trample over the corpse of his father below him. Suddenly, four of his legs become free, with the others following suit. He bends his neck down and nuzzles his father’s chest, desperately trying to wake him up. He feels the body shift as the chains attached to his arms jingle slightly. Then, a body sits atop him once again- only this time it felt much lighter. They sat side-saddled, gripping his hair tightly to drive him forwards. Atreus attempted to buck the person off him, but with little success as they swung their leg around him to straddle him tightly. He felt a pair of knees dig into his ribs once again, and Atreus had no choice but to drive forwards in a gallop. A small hand stroked his neck softly as he lept over the body of Freyr and Hildisvíni.

"ᚺᛟᛗᛖ!" A beam of light engulfed his vision as his body felt like it was decomposing into the air itself. The sounds of Freya and Odin’s battle begins to fade in the distance. Finally, the body atop him felt slightly heavier and Atreus collapses down onto his hands and knees- two hands, two knees. Expecting to feel his face pressing into the snow, he felt a sharp rocky stone break his fall, his vision finally fully escaping him. For how long, Atreus couldn’t tell.

“Atreus.” 

A soft velvety voice calls out to him. 

“Atreus I need you to wake up.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ### Atreus

Atreus began to wake.

His eyes, still heavy with fatigue, made out something looming above him. At first, Atreus suspected it was a fox; gold and sleek with unreadable, expressionless eyes. The demigod blinked his dry eyes forcefully, for everything to dance into focus. Once they did, the image of the fox was suddenly, a young man, not much older than himself. Calmly, the stranger pulls away from Atreus’ face, rising to his feet in order to loom over the confused god. A storm of questions began to cloud his mind, but Atreus remembered his father’s lessons. 'Withhold your feelings of uncertainty and fear. Never allow strangers to see you waver until you are certain they are not your foe.' Without rising, Atreus began to survey his surroundings.

The two of them appeared to be inside a dark cave somewhere deep underground. Several damaged torches dimly lit the rocky passage, struggling to stay aflame in their sorry state. He could see the wood rot from where he lay. Atreus couldn’t help but wonder how long those torches may have been there, or rather, how long he may have been there? While the light struggled to shine, it was bright enough to bounce off the tips of stalactites that hung above his face. Beads of cold water descended to the tips of the rocks, his dry blue eyes following their path as they drip slowly off the pointed rock and into a blemished wooden bowl someone must have set out in order to collect. This action caused him to shift his gaze, and it was then that Atreus decided it would be best to try and get up. Painfully, he rises. Putting his general muscle aches and his body’s massive refusal to move aside. Eventually, Atreus did rise, and almost immediately his body’s dehydration made itself known. He needed water and he needed it now. Looking back to the bowl from before, his gaze led him to the mysterious stranger. He must’ve saved him, Atreus guessed.

The young man in question was short and hid most of his body underneath a light grey woolen cloak. A fox fur caplet donned his shoulders in the same gold that he saw before. For a moment, the demigod thinks that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t imagining things earlier- but before he had a chance to revisit the thought, Atreus let his eyes wander away from the man’s clothing and up to his face. Pointed and pale, his face was long with high cheekbones and clear, unblemished skin. Vibrant amethyst eyes sat underneath thick, dark eyebrows that matched his long, loose charcoal hair. This man, whoever he was, seemed familiar in a way, but his mind couldn't recall ever seeing him before now. Strangely he kept his face free of hair, a rare thing to see thanks in part to Fimbulwinter's bitter cold. Impulsively, Atreus reaches for the short curly tips of the beard growing on his face, scratching the dry flaking skin with his bloody fingertips.  
“You saved me.” Atreus’ voice was low and parched, but he managed to speak nonetheless. The stranger walked over to the bowl from under the stalactite and offered him the water, still and crystal clear.  
“Yes, I did.” He says in a soft, calm voice.

Atreus accepts his offering without hesitation and drinks the contents of the bowl savagely as if he’s been parched for days. Unfortunately, his desire for water didn’t prepare him for the brain freeze that followed, but he pushed through it regardless. From the corner of his eye, Atreus sees the man stagger in his breathing with a tightly clenched jaw. Quickly, he finishes off the bowl, ignoring the two streams of water spilling out from both corners of his mouth, disappearing into his red beard. Letting his eyes return to the stranger, Atreus rips the wooden bowl from his lips. He begins to question the man, wiping the excess wasted water from his face. “You saved me, and yet… I don’t recognize you. Who are you, exactly?”  
The man un-clenches his jaw slightly, slowly breathing out through his nose.  
“Sigyn.”  
His voice is still soft, but much firmer than before. Quickly, he turns his face upwards to the trembling vibrations coming from outside.  
“Sigyn.” What a strange name Atreus thinks- and yet, the name rolls of his tongue with ease. As he begins to stand, he asks “How do you know my name, Sigyn?” Quickly, and without much thought, Atreus felt for his knife. It was there. Thankfully, this stranger didn't think to disarm him- a lesson his father taught him long ago.

 

“How could I not? The god who killed Sif herself. Scalping her in her sleep with nothing but a knife... all while little Thrud sat shivering in a corner-”  
“That’s not what happened!” Atreus snapped as he threw the empty bowl across the cave, a rumble rising in his throat to accompany his words. The young man- Sigyn- backed away slightly but didn't flinch at the sudden tantrum. The painful vision of Thrud reappeared in Atreus’ memories. Thrud, his dear sweet friend. The way she trusted him and begged him to help her and her mother escape the nightmare Thor kept them in- gods, she was so young. She counted on Atreus, her hero, to follow through on his promise to her. Was he simply imprinting on her thanks to the foreign stepsister he was told about? The one he’ll never get to meet? The image of Thrud weeping while holding her mother’s bloody, golden locks of hair in her small frail hands stayed fresh in his mind. Her soft, trembling lips screaming out in fearful pain before they were silenced forever...

Atreus broke himself from his memories before they consumed him, scowling to himself. His heart was beating too fast. The rage his father taught him to temper was threatening to swallow him whole. It truly was getting harder and harder to keep under control, to not lose himself in it- but he has to keep fighting it. He has to push through it. He has to because his father was no longer here to…-  
“Oh,” Sigyn said dryly. “Well, you're still a household name… even though there isn’t much of a house left for us in Valhalla, thanks to you and your father.”  
“Us?” Atreus questions, raising a brow. This man, while not exactly threatening, disturbed him with how casually he acted around him. Another lesson he learned from his father.  
“We’re both gods, are we not?” The man questions, steadying himself as another earthquake rattles the world around them.

Atreus stumbles forward but catches himself before he falls over. “Why are we underneath the ground at a time like this?!” He snaps, the annoyance clear in his voice.  
Sigyn walks over to a stalagmite and reaches down to pull something metal from behind it, ignoring Atreus’ question entirely. “I don’t have a lot of time to try and gain your trust. Hopefully, these will expedite the bridge between us. I promise you, as insane as it may seem, I’m on your side.”  
Sigyn held his father’s blades of chaos in each hand.

Atreus rushes forwards to look upon them, while the man held the tips of each blade facing down.  
The sadness and pain he had been so desperately holding back in his mind were unable to remain caged any longer. Atreus felt his chin wrinkle beneath his scruffy juvenile beard, his eyes squinting slightly shut as he struggled to hold back the tears forming. Atreus would’ve figured he’d be better at handling this by now- in the five years since his mother’s death, his father had died twice, both times involving him to travel to both Hel and Valhalla in order to resurrect him. The second time, a bitter smile fumbles forward on his face, was more of a kidnapping. Forcefully pulling the God of War away from his eternal blissful existence, surrounded by Valkyries still ‘grateful’ for his assistance in freeing them.  
As Atreus touched the cold metal with the tips of his fingers, he allowed the tears to flow down his face.

No.

He can never become numb to his father's death. Especially now, knowing the current state of both Hel and Valhalla. Could he… truly… be gone forever now? He gingerly takes the blades from Sigyn's hands and holds them tightly. This was the first time he ever held them like this. He feels his father’s grip under his fingertips, forever worn into the leather handles. Wait- he was holding them wrong. He exchanged the blades in each hand, giving them another tight squeeze.  
There. Now his fingers fit inside his father’s massive imprint.  
“Where are the chains?” Atreus asks, keeping his gaze on the weapons in his hands.  
“Still attached to the Ghost of Sparta himself. Only he is capable of removing those from his flesh.”  
He looks up to the strange, non-threatening man before him. That name always agitated his father, it carried so much weight that Atreus only recently discovered. Nevertheless, it struck fear in those who managed to utter it.  
“How do you expect me to use these without the chain?”  
Sigyn cracked a playful smile. “I saw what you did to Heimdall using only one blade. Now you have two.”  
Atreus exhaled painfully through his mouth. Was he about to laugh, or cry? He couldn’t quite tell yet. “Thanks, but I still don’t know anything about you, or why you’re helping me?”  
Sigyn picked the now cracked wooden bowl up from across the room and set it back underneath the dripping stalactite. His purple eyes cycled through a few emotions before he settled on contemplative anger. “I know what it’s like to be an outsider. Your father… he left some pretty big footprints for you to follow when it comes to shaking pantheons up. I’ve decided to bet all my chips on you.” With a hint of frustration, Sigyn snatches up a torch from the wall and motioned for Atreus to follow him. “Here’s hoping I don’t regret it.”

* * *

“Σκότωσέ τον.” A voice whispers softly in Atreus’ mind. The demigod kept silent as he followed behind Sigyn towards an unknown destination. Sigyn surveyed each wall in the dark cavernous underground pathway before he moved forwards, only pausing to steady himself during the endless earthquakes. The voices had been calling to Atreus the moment he picked the weapons up. He had long learned to ignore petty temptations random voices whisper to him, but these were... different. He lost count of how many different voices cycled through his mind.  
“Πόσο απογοητευτικό, είσαι πραγματικά ο γιος του.” A voice snaps at him.  
“Η Πανδώρα μου πέθανε για τίποτα!” Both anger and regret swirled together in this voice. He sounded as if he was on the verge of tears every time he spoke.  
“Θα πετυχεις...” a kindly woman sang to him. Her’s was the voice he preferred. She would occasionally praise him for all his accomplishments, but all would come at the cost of insulting his father.  
No matter how different their message to him was, they all had one thing in common.  


Demanding Atreus reattach the chains back onto the blades in his hands.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ### Atreus

“...Don’t suppose you two ‘ought to try communicating?” Mimir urged dryly as he dangled off Kratos’ hip.  
There was once a time when Atreus would be face to face with the talking head, looking into his golden eyes as while he spoke, his father taking the lead on their adventures. Nowadays, his father lingered behind him as he leads their excursions. Atreus used to think it was because he finally gained his trust, but after their run-in with Heimdall, Atreus wasn’t sure if he knew anything anymore.

A family.  
He had a whole family before he met mother, before Atreus was even a thought in their minds, and he killed them. 

How? How could he- how could he keep this from him? It’s true that his father was always a discreet man, one who rarely spoke of himself and had more secrets than he led on, but he thought… he thought that things were different now. After everything they’ve been through, after all they’ve seen, Atreus thought that his father could trust him. That he could finally tell him the truth, all of the truth. Clearly, he was wrong. The thought that there were still world-shattering truths being kept from Atreus made him feel… well, he wasn’t sure how to feel about it. About any of it.  
There was a time that Atreus used to be proud of his heritage, proud of who he was and where he came from- but now? Now all he wanted to do was run from anything that tied him to Sparta, the mysterious land of his father’s heritage, the land that he came to idolize. And yet, no matter what he did to flee his godhood, it was ripped away from him.  
Jormi... Fenrir.

“Αποτυχηθήκατε στην οικογένειά σας, όπως έκανε ο πατέρας σας.” An older man says.  
"Μπορώ να το κάνω έτσι ώστε ποτέ να μην αποτύχει πάλι." The woman sings.

 

“Did you hear me?” Sigyn asked, aggravation beginning to bubble in his throat. Quickly, the demigod shook his head to rip himself away from his thoughts, back to reality. This wasn’t the time to get lost in himself. He had to focus.  
_‘You are in your head boy.’_  
Father...  
“I apologize, could you please repeat what you just said?” He requested, struggling to retain his calm and collected exterior while making eye contact with Sigyn. He needed to get a hold of himself. It may seem relatively safe inside this cave, but he remembers the apocalyptic scenery happening outside.  
“I said we’re about to reach the end of this passageway. Once we get to the opening, I need you to open a black rift and fight whatever comes out of it before we can move on.”

Atreus couldn’t stand the mystery surrounding this young man. Maybe if he were still a wide-eyed child he’d tag along with this stranger without question, but he knew better than to accept the assistance from those he didn’t know. The image of Freyr, Freya’s sick and disturbing brother, came to mind.  
“Y’know,” Atreus started, rolling his shoulder from the last skirmish several moments ago. “You could try and pull your weight a little? Help me out a bit next time something attacks.”  
Almost too quickly, Sigyn turned to look at Atreus in annoyance, only to turn back around and continue walking forward. Atreus casually rolled his eyes at the silent man, completely unfazed. Dealing with his father’s cold, silent exterior for seventeen years made Atreus a professional at handling these types of people.  
“I know you can fight.” Atreus insisted, jogging quickly to Sigyn’s side. The same side that held the torch, bringing both of their faces into the light. “What- I’m supposed to believe you just slid off with me, slouched on your shoulders, in the middle of that war zone?”  
“That wasn’t a war.”  
“Oh, sure. The remains of the Aesir gods against my father, the Valkyries, and three dragons. All while the world collapses around itself, watching your friends all die around you. No, that’s just a regular everyday occurrence. A typical sight in Midg-“  
“You don’t know what a real war looks like.” Sigyn interrupted viciously, his echoing voice causing them both to pause. 

In that moment of silence, Atreus thought of Jormi, his best friend. The clever word games they had made up between themselves, the stories he told him of his mother and her antics with the gods, the way he would imitate Atreus’ father in his booming voice- despite the mood that hung over the two, he couldn’t help but feel something warm begin to rise in him. A smile threatens to grace his face for only a moment as he remembers the way it sounded. Then he begins to remember the day he found a small wolf pup with him, that warmth beginning to turn into something much… sadder.  
Slowly, Sigyn starts to speak again, clearly restraining himself as he speaks. “You’ll never know the loss and pain of a real war.” 

Rage engulfed Atreus, and at that moment he snatches the arm holding the torch and slams Sigyn into the wall of the cave.  
“Καλός!” A woman’s voice encourages him.  
Sigyn didn’t flinch as his back took most of the impact- but he did lose his grip on the torch, and he watched it fall from his hands and into a small puddle of water. They were left in the darkness as the flame diminished.

Gods, Atreus hated how expressionless he was. Was he mocking him?

“Don’t, even for a second, think you know what I’ve been through.” Atreus hissed, squeezing his wrist tightly. “I don’t know you, and you don’t know me.”  
It was difficult to see Sigyn’s face in the dark cave, but thanks to the hold on his wrist, Atreus felt him clench his hand into a fist for only a moment. Then, Sigyn let the full weight of his arm fall limply into his grip, breaking the silence left in Atreus’ wake.“You’re right, I overstepped. I apologize.” Slowly, Atreus releases Sigyn as he comes down from his rage-filled high, then bends down to pick up the torch. He reaches for his flint to try and ignite it once again- only to be stopped by the shorter man.  
“We don’t need it anymore.” He pointed to the flickering black rift in the air before them. “Kill what’s ever in that thing, and we can finally be done with this.”  
With the anger nipping at his heels once more, Atreus reaches into the rift and yanks out a monstrous otherworldly creature. The top of him appeared to be a fully armored warrior, yet as Atreus’s eyes descended down the warrior in front of him, he noticed he had the body of a massive stallion. 

The creature wasted no time in charging forwards to strike Atreus. He arched his body backward to avoid a massive buster sword slashing at his neck. Leaping backwards to pull out his father’s blades, he readjusted his grip on them. They were so much heavier than his knife- and soon he’d find out that they were also much, much deadlier. As he charged forwards to attack the beast, he felt a rush of heated energy devouring his once calm exterior, causing him to grip the blades tighter. Once he was in striking distance, he shoved a blade upwards into the exposed belly of the horse’s body. The creature screamed a mixture of a man’s cry and a horses bray before he swung his sword downwards at Atreus.

“ξανά” The voices whispered as the fight raged on and on.

—

Atreus kept still as he stood before the dead monster. With both bloody blades in his crimson hands, he shut his eyes and began counting his breaths, following his father’s instructions on how to calm down. His mind drifts to his mother in her garden, singing as she picked pea pods up one at a time and placed them in a basket held by a bright and cheerful child with skinned knees. Atreus clenched his fists, attempting to recall being that happy. Desperately trying to retain the sliver of softness he once had... before the events of the past five years robbed him of that innocence.  
Suddenly a light elf, draped in a bloodstained white gown, appeared from what felt like nowhere. It threw a wooden pike aimed at Sigyn, who stood far off to the side of Atreus. Panic overtook him- he would be too slow to shove him out of the way, and too far to knock the pike from its path. “Look out!” He screams, the weapon flying directly towards Sigyn, who wasn’t paying attention.

The pike missed him.  
...The pike _missed_ him?

Atreus wastes little time lunging towards the light elf. With his rage still not fully withheld from his previous battle, Atreus made quick work of the elf using his father’s blades, shoving one into the left side of the elf and bringing the other blade to its neck. While standing behind the elf Atreus brought both arms in front of him, slicing the elf’s stomach and throat open in the movement. Blood spewed forth violently, causing the elf to collapsed down onto the crimson ground. Atreus stepped over the body and rushed over to Sigyn, who was busy writing something in the dirt below.

“How- how did you dodge that?”  
His question fell on deaf ears as Sigyn concentrated on writing the runes.  
"ᚱᛖᚹᛖᚱᛏ"

As he finished he stood up, He pulls out a small handkerchief from a pouch, wiping his hands as he speaks. “Being a god occasionally has its perks.”

Finally, Atreus smiled at the strange young man. “It’s speed isn’t it?” Sigyn’s purple eyes dart up from cleaning his hands to Atreus’ blue ones. “You’re fast, really fast, faster than most people can process with their eyes. That elf’s aim wasn’t off- you just dodged the attack.”  
A slight smile appeared on Sigyn’s face at his assumption, and quietly returned to cleaning his hands.

“Hey, I’m-” Atreus hesitated, remorse clear in his tone. “I’m sorry for, for earlier. I shouldn’t have done that to you.”  
Sigyn’s smile remained on his face, not returning his gaze- or, not yet. “You’ve gone through a lot recently, it’s only normal to get swept up like that. But since you’re a god, you can’t allow your emotions to cloud your thoughts so easily.” Atreus sighed at his point, his painfully correct point, and slid each of his father’s blades into his belt. _‘It is a curse.’_ He recalls his father’s words, clear as day.  
“...Wish there was a way to shed this curse.” Atreus allowed the words to quietly slip out from his mouth, letting some of the pent-up frustrations escape him. This sentiment didn’t escape Sigyn, and he snatched Atreus’ wrist in his hands. His amethyst eyes were wide and serious, and his tone matched that. “What you are, this isn’t a curse. Don’t think like that. Don’t ever run from your godhood.” Putting his own shock aside, Atreus respected Sigyn’s warning, even though he wasn’t too sure what he meant by those words. He nodded once to his strange new companion. “Soo... do you forgive me?” Atreus asks, breaking the sudden tension in the room. Sigyn’s serious expression collapses inward, and a smile replaces it.  
“No.”  
"Understandable." Atreus chuckled as he looked at their joined hands. The runes that embedded itself into his skin from Tyr’s runestone all those years ago began to light, causing his skin to glow a bright yellow hue.  
"Don't let go," Sigyn spoke before Atreus had the chance to react. Then, the cave suddenly started to collapse around them, causing a bright prism to engulf them. In the next moment, Atreus felt as if they were flying- or rather, falling off the realm between the realm between realms. A hard dusty ground broke his fall.

 

Atreus and Sigyn stand up in Jotunheim.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ### Kratos

The last chain link was the hardest to remove. 

A beardless Kratos tugged at the burning metal, the final chain still embedded into the thin flesh of his wrist. Despite the stinging pain that followed, he continued on, preparing himself for the pain that would subdue him. 

A crack of lightning above him distracts him, and for a moment he pulls his eyes from his bloody arms to the apocalyptic scene around him. The world was still reacting to previous deeds of the gods; Zeus, Hera, Poseidon- others he didn’t care to recall. A massive wave crashes into the base of the mountain cliff he stood on, bringing him back to the task at hand. Letting out a short breath, Kratos gripped tightly onto the chain and closed his eyes.  
Then, he yanked the cursed metal from underneath his flesh.  
A gasp of searing pain was hidden behind tightly clenched teeth. He exhaled harshly from his nose and brought several staggered breaths inward to try and sedate the pain that rushed through his arms. He only opened his eyes after the pain passed, amber eyes looking out to the raging horizon.  
‘Never again’ he told himself, holding both blades in his hands. The chains dangled loosely by his feet, shifting from the howling wind.  
Never again will he put his leash to the gods back on.  
Without dwelling anymore over it, he threw the blades off the cliff and into the raging waters below.

He watched as they tumbled frantically into the water, disappearing into the waves and darkness below. Was this it? Was his freedom truly as simple as this?

As Kratos leaned forward to peer at the water, he felt a gust of wind surge up from the ocean below. A whirlpool began to form around the shackles of his blades. As he started to move back the whirlpool surged violently before him, its waves savage and chaotic. Its sudden rise causes Kratos to jolt back, and for a brief moment, he anticipated that it would engulf him too. Then, In a violent instant, the whirlpool vanishes and the water plummets back into the seas.  
The Blades of Chaos lay motionlessly at his feet.  
Like an obedient dog, Kratos impulsively leaned forwards to pick up his weapons but paused before his fingers even touched the steel.  
Instead, he steps over the weapons before him, his eyes lifeless as he looks out to the waters below. Would this even work with his brother no longer gatekeeping the afterlife? The gods had destroyed everything in this world. Hades, his miserable brother, was killed by his own hands, perhaps the underworld no longer existed? What was beyond the underworld?  
‘Peace,’ he decided. And with that, he threw himself off the cliff of the mountain and into the deadly sea below. The last thing that flashes in front of his exhausted eyes- lightning, blinding lightning, crashing in the distance before the cold seawater violently consumes him.

Death. His only escape. Freedom from this cursed life and all his past sins- sins the gods were responsible for. The gods forced his every action in his life. But this, choosing to die, this was his act of defiance to the gods. It was probably the first true decision he’s made for himself in decades. He inhaled the salty sea water into his mouth, letting the water fill his lungs and force him deeper and deeper into his desired tomb. He had hoped that the stinging liquid would take him away from this torment-- that he would finally find peace.

In the next moment, he felt an upward pull on his body. The god’s green glowing grasp lifted him up out of the water and carried him over to the shoreline of an unknown location, his eyes opening to find the only thing still sinking into the depths of the sea was his own ambition. Kratos’ face twisted into a painful sulk as he shut his eyes once more and watched his freedom slip from his grasp and vanish around him. Even with the gods long gone, they still kept him here, chained to this cell. Life.

* * *

Kratos roamed the streets of a ruined city. Mortals rummaged through piles of dead bodies and debris, looking for anything to keep them alive in this hell-on-earth that Zeus had caused. Kratos managed to find a large, hooded red cloak with a gold pattern outlining the edges, using this to hide his appearance from those around him. He kept the hood up to mask his face and his arms lay hidden underneath the thick cloak, hiding the wounds left by the chains. Some asked him if he had anything to eat, others ignoring him as they pillage and scavenge the surroundings.

As he approached the docks of the ruined city, he noticed someone following him- a woman. He did not turn around to examine her, for her footsteps told him what he needed to know. She wore thin sandals that did not fit her feet properly and a cotton chiton dress with glass beads around her waist. Her hair was perfumed with lemons, or, it used to be. It emitted a sour rotten smell- typically unpleasant in normal circumstances, but in this current environment, it was a pleasing change from plagued dead bodies.  
She quickened her footsteps behind him and drifted slightly off to his left. It caused Kratos a moment of rest. She was simply attempting to get past him, not ambushing him like the dozens before had attempted. As she drifted into his side vision, she pardons herself.  
“Excuse me.”  
He remained silent as she turned to display her face to him. Black eyes and round dimpled cheeks were on full display. Her black curly hair pulled away from her dark, olive-skinned face. She paused for a moment to smile at him; a bizarre gesture, Kratos thought. How could this woman think to smile with all the death and decay brought about by the gods? She quickly turned away from him and rushed forwards towards the docks, Kratos slowing his pace as he fixated on her swaying hips in front of him.

 **"Last call!"**

Kratos' eyes drifted from the woman to a gruff, plump, silver-haired man- a sea captain- standing on a massive ship. A crowd of people surrounded it, attempting to board all at once. 

"You there, in the red." The captain shouted at him in a thick accent, displaying his foreign background. "That cloak may hide your face but it can’t hide your height! We’ll need sturdy fellas to help out on our journey. What say you? Ready to leave all this behind and start fresh in a new, fertile land?” Kratos watched as the black-haired woman boarded the ship. She ran over to the side and breathed a sigh of relief as if she felt safe for the first time in months.  
“So? What say you? I’ll wave your fee if you help out on deck. I could use some extra muscles, ever been on a ship before?”  
Kratos directed his gaze over towards the captain, ignoring the last question. “Where is your vessel’s destination?”  
“Ah, yes-” The man says, hopping off the ship and approaching Kratos to speak softly. “Egypt.” Kratos tightens his grip on his cloak, ensuring his identity remained hidden.  
“Egypt?” Kratos repeats.  
“Aye, rumor has it the sun still shines brightly upon its shores. Food grows in droves, and the miserable Olympians hold no power there. Instead, they have their own pantheon of powerful deities, lead by the one they call The Pharaoh. And I doubt they would ever allow plagues such as these to tarnish their land!”  
Kratos studied the vessel as he allowed the idea to take root into his mind. 

A new land, a new beginning. 

Yet, would fleeing these shores truly fulfill his desire to be rid of his servitude? What difference would a new land and climate mean if he is still a puppet of the gods? He surveyed the ruined city, or, what he could see of it in the eternal night. 'Such chaos, I will have much to do when this is all over.' Those words haunted him, almost as badly as Lysandra's screams. 

"Who are you?" Kratos masked his distressed mind and questioned the sea captain. He appeared knowledgeable of the waters, but in Kratos' experience, he knew better than to think of this ship as merely a cargo vessel. This was a warship.  
"Name's Eric. This ship was given to me by my older brother, the fiercest sea captain in all the north. He leads an armada of men truly loyal to him, but you can't keep loyalty without gold. Once word got out of Greece’s destruction, he sent me and my men to plunder as much gold and spices that could fit in the boat, sell them to the Egyptians. ‘Desert dwellers will buy anything as long as you claim its from a distant land."  
Kratos narrowed his eyes, his story began to show cracks. A fertile desert? This man was a pirate and nothing more. He put the pieces together as he found the black haired woman smiling with her eyes shut, feeling the sea breeze on her face. "Sell gold and spices to a foreign land south of here in order to bring back gold and spices to your brother up north-You think I am as dim as these fools asking to board your ship? You mean to sell these people into slavery to the Egyptians."  
The captain lifted an eyebrow in admiration, perhaps at how quickly he saw through his scheme. "What, you prefer them to die here in the darkness? Empty bellies and bugs laying eggs in their ears? Egypt is warm, wealthy, and abundant. I'm giving them a better life all while I get to line my pockets. Everyone’s a winner." 

Kratos considered killing them man right then and there. Becoming someone else's slave was never a better option over death- he knew this fact all too well. And yet, none of this was any of his concern. Why should he care what happens to a handful of mortals? As he kept his gaze on the black-haired woman, he noticed her eyes drifting open and staring in his direction. She lifted a hand off the wooden brim of the ship and waved slightly to him, her smile turning into something more seductive than a kindhearted gesture. Was she inviting him to come on board with her?  
"Egypt..." Kratos mumbles as he contemplates his decision. Suddenly, his mind was made up. He turned away from the captain and the woman off in the distance, walking away silently.  
"Fine! Suit yourself!" Eric shouted as he jumped back onto the ship, his crew scurrying around as they prepare to set sail. 

Once Kratos realized he wasn't being watched, he shifted directions and snuck closer to the port side of the ship. He leaped onboard and snuck past several crewmen preparing the sails. As the ship began moving away from the docks, he managed to infiltrate into the belly of the ship. Once inside, Kratos approached a chest filled with pillaged silver and wine. He lifted the lid and quickly threw his Blades of Chaos on top of the looted spoils, shutting the lid as he looked around the dark room. As the lid locked into place, he heard a gasp in the darkness- a woman. Quickly, he lurched towards the sound and grasped for her wrist, bringing her closer to him. Wide terrified eyes met him as the black-haired woman opened her mouth to beg him to release her. Kratos shoved the palm of his hand onto her mouth to silence her, and in doing so his hood fell down, revealing his face to her. She screamed a silent muffled plea for help as she saw the white skin and red tattoo of the Ghost of Sparta. 

"Scream again and die." He rasps in her ear. With tears streaming down her face, she nodded once to him. Kratos removed his hand from her mouth but kept his grip on her wrist.  
"...Lord Kratos?" She shivered out fearfully.  
He ought to take her with him, save this miserable woman from her unknowing fate. He thought to himself, ignoring her incoherent groveling in the background. He ought to kill her right here and now, whatever death he bestowed upon her would be a blessing compared to what she would most likely face. His face twisted in disgust, thinking of what Zeus has wrought to this land, his home. A woman like this would stand no chance in such a land, to be forced into slavery because of the actions of the gods... Kratos clenched his other fist tightly in rage. His mind was pulled from his thoughts as she placed a trembling hand onto his grip on her.  
"I.." She hesitated. "I won't tell anybody." She straightened her back and looked him in the eyes, slowly her same smile made its way to her face. Kratos loosened his grip on her but kept her in his grasp, and she leaned closer to him as he did so. What was she pulling? He had nothing to offer her? As she leaned in closer Kratos' eyes drifted down to her lips, how long had it been for him he wondered? His sister in law? That must have been the last time. No sooner than the memories of her enter his mind so too did his brother's. 

‘Save her… Save my beloved Pandora’

Kratos pushes the woman away and turns quickly away from this senselessness to exit the belly of the ship, not even bothering to look back at the woman. As he approached the deck he crept past two men distracted by their duties and approached the edge of the ship. Quickly, before anyone could notice, he jumped feet first into the waters below. As he swam back to shore he noticed how much faster he was in the water, no longer carrying around the weight of the chains.

* * *

Kratos found an abandoned house close to shore to take shelter in as he dried his cloak and boots off. After lighting a fire, he allowed himself to sleep. 

When he awoke, he smelled the decay of rotting bodies and... lemons? He put his still damp boots back on and draped his dry cloak over himself as he opened the door of the house and made his way to the shoreline.  
Debris from a shipwreck washed ashore, bodies of men and women wake in the waves before they crashed onto the sand. Off in the distance, Kratos saw a woman with black hair face down, lifelessly drifting in the water. As he rushed into the water he was stopped by something that touched his feet.

The Blades of Chaos, attached to their chains. 

Kratos stared at the weapons as the waves snaked the chains around his feet. He looked up once more to the destruction of the shipwreck before him. As he reached down to pick up both blades, the black-haired woman's corpse finally sunk into the bottom of the water. Kratos looked upwards to the sky, to the gods, and narrowed his eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ### Atreus

Atreus lagged behind Sigyn as they walked up the path to Jotunheim,  
examining the young man silently, thinking about how he could protect him if they were suddenly attacked, how he could kill him if he suddenly betrayed him- following the teachings of his late father to the tee.  
The only physical weapon he could identify on Sigyn was the outline of a small, simple knife, similar to the one his mother had. It sat horizontally at the tail end of his spinal cord under his thick, grey cloak, Atreus managed a glimpse of it due to the way he would sway as he walked. 

Jotunheim seemed untouched by the apocalyptic events in Midgard. The bone-crushing chill of Fimbulwinter, the final wave of the desecration. Food was scarce and no longer anything outside of a necessity. All vegetation and herbs had died off long ago. Meat was rare and fish was out of the question. What he would give for an apple he thought. Or something that had grown from the ground or hung off a vine, instead of dying from frostbite. Atreus paused his forward momentum as they reached the center of a grassy field, he looked down to his feet he noticed that his boots were covered in grass seeds and brambles. This was all so surreal- the crisp air, the green grass around him- Fimbulvinter had snuffed out almost all life from his forest home, so much so that the sight of it caught him by surprise. Casually, Atreus bent down to peel a bahiagrass stem off his calf, holding the Y shaped weed between his fingers and twirling the stem around several times. Feeling the crisp, alive feeling of greenery in his fond embrace shocked him for a moment; he forgot how raw and alive a simple weed could feel. Sigyn approached him through the knee-high grass.  
“Do you need to rest? We can set up camp nearby.”  
His voice was soft, near concerned, and it caused Atreus looked up from the Bahia stem into Sigyn’s amethyst eyes. For a moment, he felt at a loss for words. How long has it been since he’s seen life like this? How does he even begin to explain this feeling to Sigyn?  
“I… I haven’t seen this much green in years.”  
He recalls what the gods did to his home, to his friends, and allowed the bitterness of what Heimdall told him moments after revealing his betrayal to him and his father.  
_'Like it or not, your one of us too.’_

Sigyn lifted his hand to him only to quickly retreat and bend down and pluck a blade of grass sticking to his cloak.

They sat in silence for a moment before Atreus suddenly spoke up, bringing Sigyn’s eyes up to his own. His voice was sharp and suspicious.  
“So what’s your plan with me?” Atreus dropped the weed from his grasp and glared at his supposed rescuer. “I don’t even know if this is some sort of rescue mission or a kidnapping attempt going off without a hitch?” He felt the Blades of Chaos shift in his belt loop as he spoke. Maybe Sigyn allowed him to keep himself armed just to retain a fake veneer of security? The man in question remained silent, which triggered a slight aggravation in Atreus’ voice. “What do you want from me? What are you not telling me!?”

As Sigyn remained quiet, Atreus felt his anger nipping at his throat. He should be used to this- his whole life everyone around him had been tiptoeing around the truth. Sometimes in an unwanted attempt to protect him, but most of the time it was in some sort of narcissistic way. The last several people that appeared in his life had act innocent and ignorant, only to discover that they were manipulating him all along… only to betray him once they were done. Atreus reached out his tattooed arm out and griped Sigyn’s frail upper arm, the anger threatening to rupture out of him.  
“I’m not taking another step until you start talking to me, Sigyn.”  
The way Sigyn’s name rolled casually off his tongue made the young man flash Atreus a slightly perturbed expression, as if it was the first time Sigyn was caught off guard by something he did.

Several moments passed by as the two stood locked in a silent stare down, with Atreus studying the man’s flustered yet determined expression. Finally, Sigyn retreated from looking up at him and yanked his arm away from Atreus. He pulled a folded up blanket from underneath his cloak and fluffed it onto the ground before he sat upon it and reached into a bag he had hidden behind his cape. He pulled out some dried fruit and hardened bread with rosemary baked into it- then, he spoke.  
“Whenever you are ready to continue let me know. Until then, I’ll set up a camp.” He spoke to the endless supplies he almost magically seemed to retrieve from his small sack. While in any normal circumstances this act would seem cold and hostile, Sigyn spoke to Atreus in a kind, soothing voice that almost remained him of his mother. How she would address him when he was a small boy throwing an unnecessary temper tantrum.  
Atreus sighed as he removed the Blades of Chaos from his belt and tossed them onto the grass before flopping down onto the blanket. Defeated. Still, in his last act of defiance, he sprawls his body out as far as possible to leave Sigyn little to no room to move on the blanket. He saw a coy smile flutter along Sigyn’s lips as he sighed from his nose and continued setting up their camp.

 

After three days of stubbornly refusing to move forward, Atreus realized Sigyn had a bit more resolve than he anticipated. They lived there for the better part of a week. The two would hunt their meals together, but Sigyn always demanded he would be the one to prepare the meat, citing how unclean Atreus kept his hands. Sigyn insisted their meals always include something that didn't have to die in order to prepare it. Rarely, if ever, did Sigyn even touch any of the meat from their meals. Even still, Sigyn’s cooking always warmed his heart and caused Atreus to loosen and open up to him. He used the same herbs and spices his mother once did, causing a long discussion on the plants in question; where each plant originated from, the best way to use them, and how to properly dry the herbs so that they can be preserved and last longer. Over time it seemed like Sigyn trusted him, nor had he shown any signs of impending betrayal - something that his father, and past life experiences, taught him to watch out for. From the way he openly accepted any drink or snack Atreus offered him, to the fact he had no problem falling asleep before him- curled up on his side like a cat on its master’s lap, unguarded and comfortable. One night when Atreus’ nightmares proved too intense to sleep through, he sat by their dimly lit campfire and just watched Sigyn shift softly in his sleep, the sight itself chasing the hellish memories away and for his soul to calm down. It never completely drove the nightmares away, but it at least kept them at bay. For now.

* * *

Atreus looked upon Sigyn in a mesmerized fashion back then, and he found himself giving him the same look now.

He smiled grimly as he tore himself from his thoughts, and the two of them approached an ancient stone bridge atop the mountains of Jotunheim. Several days had passed since they both finally decided it best to leave camp and continue onward. Only now did Atreus realize they were taking the same path he and his father took all those years ago. So much had happened since that bittersweet memory of his mother’s ashes in his hands- he remembered how distinctively heavy the small golden bag weighed in his grasp, his last embrace of her as he cupped the bag within both his tiny palms. 

Sigyn took the lead as he walked onto the shifting stone surface, while Atreus trailed behind. He hesitated at first, still lost in his memories. His thoughts drifted to his father’s rare, serene face as he removed the bandages from around his arms, gazing down to where he tucked his father’s blades into his belt. Atreus was so young back then, so naive. Even though the truth was kept from him he wondered, would he even be able to grasp the severity of his father’s actions at that moment?  
“Σας είπε ψέματα. Εμείς δεν θα.” The woman’s voice sang to him.

As Sigyn continued forward to the next stone slab, the entire bridge shifted, causing the short man to fall forwards and gasp. Luckily, he steadied himself onto the glossy chain rail adorning the side of the bridge. This yanked Atreus away from his thoughts and back into reality, rushing forwards to stand by his friend’s side. It had nearly been a week since he woke up next to him in that strange cave. Atreus still couldn’t believe that the world had been on the verge of destruction as Ragnarok approached. Somehow here in Jotenhime, with Sigyn, the land wasn’t touched by Ragnarok. But- that doesn’t make sense? Mimir told him that Ragnarok would affect every creature in every realm. What was preventing Ragnarok from reaching Jotunheim? Atreus casually placed his palm on the back of his friend. “It’s a long way down.” He smirked, distracting himself with his own playful jab at a flustered Sigyn.

Sigyn removed both his hands from the chains and griped Atreus’ arms tightly.  
He turned to shoot Atreus a glare overflowing with annoyance and a touch fear. “Thanks for the insight, got any more wisdom to add?”  
He adjusted his grip on him as they made their way across the bridge together.  
“Yeah, actually-” Atreus looked away from his face as they moved forwards. “-the fall will most likely kill you.” He felt Sigyn’s fingernails dig into his skin as he chuckled the rest out. “Hope you’re not afraid of heights!” Once they got to the edge of the bridge and felt solid ground beneath their feet, Sigyn pushed Atreus away and turned his face towards the cave.  
“Ass,” he said, with what almost sounded like a smile.  
Atreus rubbed the red marks left behind on his hairy arms and followed his friend into the cave. 

The stone carved faces gazed upon Atreus as he walked somberly up to them. They seemed so much more defined from what he remembered. Then again, he was now looking upon them with weighted eyes. These are his people- or, were, his people.  
“Why’d you bring me here?” Atreus asked, keeping his eyes on the detailed stone faces. He felt Sigyn’s presence at his side. He stood especially close to him, his shoulder almost touching his bicep.  
“This was, the safest place to…-” Atreus turned only his face to look down at him. “...As long as you’re safe. It’s all that matters.” 

Atreus zoned out of his response and turned completely to face Sigyn, this odd man that had rescued him from the chaos of Ragnarok, the same man who he had come to know over the past week...why was he so familiar feeling to him? He’s only known him for a short time, and yet something was so natural about him. His voice, his mannerisms, his cooking, his dry sense of humor, the way he breathes softly through his nose in his sleep. A part of Atreus questions if this- if this is what home felt like? Where it’s not in a place, but in a person. Atreus tries to remember- was it this feeling? Why did everything feel so comfortable with him? And why him, of all people?  
Sigyn looked up to meet his eyes. He was attractive, sure, but he noticed that upon first encountering him. Atreus has been in love before, young love be that as it may, but this wasn’t something as frivolous as a simple crush. For a split second, Sigyn’s eyes drifted down to Atreus’ lips, sending Atreus a sort of silent but knowing sign. Without thinking, Atreus instinctively leaned his head to the side-

“You’ve got balls to enter this sacred place.” 

A girl’s call echoes throughout the cave, causing Atreus to snap his body to face the direction of the voice. Sigyn kept perfectly still behind him, remaining in the same position.  
“Show yourself,” Atreus demanded, placing his hand on his father’s blades.  
“Already giving me orders? I guess it’s in your nature, your blood.” She responded sternly. Her voice was harsh, like steel wool on a cold anvil. She slurred some of her pronunciations, indicating she wasn’t speaking to him in her native tongue.  
“I don’t want to hurt you.” Atreus lifted his arm out in front of Sigyn defensively. He felt Sigyn’s hand touch his shoulder but shrugged him off. This wasn’t the time for that anymore, he had to figure out where the voice was coming from. “Oh, you won’t.” She said pretentiously.  
“Just- Just tell me who you are?” Scanning each stone carvings face for echoes of her rasps, Atreus finally heard her step out, standing on top of a carved woman wearing a hood.  
“I’m the Jotunn’s last guardian. The final defense against beings like you.”

The girl had to be the same age as Atreus. She was thick and stout, with a muscular body build that far surpassed his own. Though she was hard and sturdy, she retained a soft feminine face, hazel eyes, with long blond hair tied back in a simple manner away from her face.

“You’re a liar,” Atreus said confidently. “That title belonged to my giantess mother, Laufey the Just.”  
A sly smirk snaked across her brown lips. “Laufey is a bumbling fool who betrayed her own people and left us to die.”

Atreus narrowed his eyes viciously at the girl. His hand instinctively gripped the pommel of one of the blades. “Χρησιμοποιήστε μας.” 

Even though he was furious at her words, curiosity peeked through his rage. Not once, in all his life, had someone spoken negatively about his mother. When he was a child, this always made him swell with pride. But now, as a man with his experiences, he understood how unusually - off that always felt.

“You’re a Giant...” Atreus suddenly realized, giving words to his inner thoughts.  
The girl leaped down in front of Atreus. Her outfit was… distracting. Hardly any clothing covered her sandy tattoo covered skin, her large breasts were confined behind a small leather jerkin with snakeskin ropes holding it in place. Her ankle length skirt was two pieces of blue-green cloth that draped over the space in between her legs but allowed the full length of her hips and legs to be visible. Almost every inch of her exposed skin was tattooed, save for her face. There was no time to read them all, but he recognized several of them as they were identical to the ones his mother had. She carried no visible weapons, but her fists were swollen and brushed. Perhaps they were the one weapon she needed?

“Please. listen to me,” Atreus feels Sigyn stand by his side and position a shoulder in front of Atreus’ arm.  
“Laufey was my mother. To meet another one of my people... Please, I don’t want to fight you.” Atreus said with wonder in his eyes.  
“You’re people?” The girl snarled, her eyes darting to Sigyn for a quick moment before returning to his own. A wash of disgust filled her expression.  
“I’m also giant, my name is Atreus, this is..-“ he began to say, pointing at Sigyn, before the girl interrupted him in a howling devious laughter.

“You claim to belong to my people yet you retain that repugnant name given to you by a god. You are no giant, you’re a freak, just like Thor.” She turned her head and spit onto the ground in disgust at even saying his name. “If you truly were a giant you would abandon that name, abandon Laufey’s failures and her betrayal of my people, and instead fully embrace your identity. The one a god robbed from you.”  
Atreus remembers the name the giants called him in the paintings. He releases his grip on the pommel of the blades and looks into her eyes. She spoke as if she knew more about him than even his own father did.  
“Tell me your name?” Atreus asked as he approached the unkempt feral girl, abandoning Sigyn behind him.

 

“My name is Angrboda.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ### Atreus

The cave echoed her name. Each syllable bounced off the rocky walls and penetrated his senses, leaving only silence in its wake. He swallowed harshly as he left Sigyn’s side, dropping all defense and approaching the giantess curiously.  
“Atreus, wait..-“ Sigyn tries reaching for his arm, but he was already too far for him to reach.

“...How did my mother fail our people?” 

Angrboða folded her muscular arms underneath her breast, pressing them tightly together. Atreus knew better than to allow himself to be caught off guard by a woman’s beauty, but as he casually looked her over once more, he had to admit it: he still enjoyed the sight nonetheless. Angrboða shifted her hips outside of her skirt and tilted her head to glare at Sigyn, voice strong and confident as she spoke. “That is a story kept between Giants.” 

 

Atreus turned his head to look at Sigyn- almost forgetting he was there in the first place- and noticed how Sigyn kept his hands balled into fists at his sides, glaring down onto his boots. Atreus could see the frustration coming off of him, biting back any sort of comeback that came to mind. He couldn’t really say anything against that, could he?  
“I recommend getting used to his presence if you have something you need from me,” Sigyn’s eyes widened and darted up to meet his own. Atreus gave a slight nod to his companion before turning back to face the beautiful woman, gaze stern and unwavering. “He’s with me.”

A smile slithered across Angrboða's face as she dropped her arms and walked past Atreus and over to Sigyn, causing Atreus to whip his body around to keep an eye on the woman. She paused at Sigyn’s side, looking down at the small man for only a moment before puffing air from her nose and walking past him to the entrance of the cave.  
“Fine, follow me if you want to know the truth. Your little freak here better keep their mouth shut if they know what’s good for them.” She said, disappearing outside.

 

Atreus walked up to Sigyn and placed a hand on his shoulder, reassuring him. “Just play along until I get some answers from her.” Silently, Sigyn reached his hand up to touch his own. When Sigyn finally spoke, his voice was low- a near whisper- and he kept his eyes locked onto Atreus’.  
“Do you trust her?”  
He paused for a moment, giving it thought. “...No, but she is a giant. You must understand how big of a deal this is for me. She’s one of my people.” His voice was soft as he whispered in return, and they both started to follow Angrboða outside. All emotion left Sigyn’s purple eyes as he released Atreus’ hand.  
“ _Your people?_ ”  
“Yes, my people. I’m a giant, remember? Well, half-giant, but that doesn’t matter right now. Just ignore her attitude- I’ll pay you back for this, I promise.”  
The two of them find her in the middle of the stone bridge, waiting. “Please, Sigyn, for me?” Sigyn’s didn’t respond to his pleading, his eyes staying forward-looking and emotionless. Hesitantly, Atreus removed his hand from Sigyn’s shoulder and ran onto the wobbling stone bridge without him.

 

The forest they entered seemed untouched by the Winter, and the only impression that seemed to come to mind was Warm. The leaves were stained red, with different levels of orange and yellow foliage decorating the rocks around them. Atreus could feel the heat of the sun peer through the leaves and punish him for wearing his thick leather jerkin and an upper layer of wolf fur. Meanwhile, Angrboða scouted ahead every so often, climbing a pile of sharp rocks and leaping from one edge to another, all while barefoot. Her tan nose scrunched upwards a few times as she sniffed the air for something, something that Atreus couldn’t figure out. “Keep up.” Her shout brought him out of his mild daze as jumped down in front of him and ran straight into the woods. Atreus quickened his pace to keep up, but the sweat and heat that seemed to consume him was making this task all the more difficult. Nevertheless, he attempted to trail the giantess as close as possible.  
“I’d ask where we’re going, but I assume you’re not going to tell me that yet.” He asked as he caught up to her, the Woman in question keeping up with her pace as she replied.  
“Now why would you think that?” 

Well, that caught Atreus by surprise. 

“Oh,” He slowed down only for a moment as his mind cycled through his reasonings. All his life he had grown accustomed to others never really including him in the full picture. “I guess I’m used to knowing better. I don’t expect people to just blurt out everything.”  
Angrboða slowed her jogging down to travel side by side with him. “Sounds like you’ve been hanging around too many gods, they always lie and cover up the truth. Most of the time, that truth involved their own misdeeds.” Atreus remained quiet as she kept talking.  
“I’m taking you to my family, they’ll decide what to do with you. They sent me out to ‘deal’ with your invasion, but you don’t seem like much of an invasion.”  
Atreus huffed at her last comment as if she was insulting him. “Thankfully I didn’t have to kill you or your purebred- at least, not yet. Speaking of which,” Angrboða stopped running suddenly, “where is your freak of a partner?”  
Atreus whipped his body around angry to scold her for talking about Sigyn that way, only to find he was missing.  
Atreus rushed several paces behind Angrboða, his search for Sigyn becoming frantic. When was the last time he saw Sigyn- the stone bridge? That must’ve been half a day ago by now.  
“Sigyn!” He shouted, trying to keep his voice firm and not wavering with concern. How far could they be from him? Was Sigyn even in this realm? How would they- how was he-

“Oh well, I guess it died.” 

Angrboða’s comment was casual as she trotted off ahead of him, far less concerned than he was. “You still coming?” Atreus ignored the giantess’ question as he retraced their footsteps backward, frantically calling out for his friend.  
Watching the halfling drew out a long sigh from Angrboða “Can’t you smell it?” Her tone was clearly irritated, whether it was at Atreus for causing them to backtrack or at Sigyn for being who he was, Atreus would never know. “That disgusting god scent isn’t just coming from you. It is just lagging behind, it probably never had to run a day in its life all pampered and pretty in Asgard.” 

 

Atreus ignored her as he rushed towards the first sign of movement in the trees- and thank the gods, it was Sigyn. He found the god sweat-drenched and leaning against a smooth pointed bolder next to a small stream. He was at a loss for air, clutching his heart as if he had pushed his body to its max potential. Part of Atreus might be found amusement in it if he hadn't been so worried in the first place. Atreus shook past that thought and placed a hand on his friends back, causing Sigyn to gasp. Wide, horrified eyes met concerned blue ones as he pleaded between breaths “W-What, What are you-" He paused, giving himself another moment to let his breathing even out.  
“-What are you doing!?”  
His current condition, it almost mirrored what Atreus looked like when he was in the middle of a struggle, or a difficult battle of sorts. Poor Sigryn, Atreus thought, to get this winded just by running fast… Now that he knew Sigyn was safe, he could fully enjoy the moment and smiled sarcastically, unsure as to how he should respond to his sudden, breathless outburst.  
“Don’t think you can get rid of me that easily. We’re in this together, remember?” Sigyn’s chin began to quiver slightly at his remarks. “Though you do smell pretty bad. I think it has to do with that thick cloak and this sudden heat wa-“ The god didn’t let him finish before tenderly placing his small, trembling hand on Atreus’ cheek. His eyes were dampening almost as much as his forehead was.  
“You never change, do you? No matter…-”

That was all he could say before an explosion erupted in the sky above them.

Quickly, Atreus yanked Sigyn into him and ducked to shield them both from the blasts.  
“What the Hel is going on back there!?” Angrboða shouted as she approached them. As the smoke cleared a winged figure floated above them in the air, burning leaves and cinders feathering around her. The sun glimmers off her bloody sword

Freya.

Her once copper and malachite encrusted Valkyrie armor was now stained in the blood of her enemies. Dents of near misses coated the spaced around her vital organs. Her helmet remained pristine atop her head, thick blacked charcoal tear stains adorned her once rosy cheeks. Were they from her tears or new tattoos? Atreus didn’t have time to consider the possibilities.  
“You think you’re so clever.” Freya started, voice broken and exhausted. With her helmet on, it was impossible to see who she was talking to, but she continued talking in Atreus and Sigyn’s direction.  
“You think you can use _HIS_ magic so openly around me, thinking I wouldn’t notice?”  
Atreus could feel Sigyn’s pounding pulse as they held onto each other, and after a moment he whispers softly as he gently frees himself from Atreus’ protective grasp. “She is too strong, I can’t beat her, at least not alone.”

Atreus’ heart sank as the weight of the situation crashed down upon him. Long ago, Freya had filled a massive hole left behind by his mother. After Baldur, their relationship took a massive hit, but that was more to do with his father. Freya never blamed him for her son’s death. Even as her and his father warred she would still look after Atreus. She even assisted him in finding his father in Valhalla. Demanding the Valkyries give up their new “toy” as she called it and set him free back in Midgard.  
Even though she hated his father so much, she still spoke so softly around him. But all that drastically changed once her disgusting brother Freyr came into the picture. When she was around him, everything changed. Killing her would mean killing the last woman in his life. 

Slowly, Atreus rose to his feet.  
“Freya, enough we can talk through whatever-“

Before he could finish he felt Sigyn push him down onto the ground as she flew at him, sword aimed directly for his eye. Atreus whipped his head upwards from the ground in shock. She meant to kill him with that blow. Freyr truly did corrupt her beyond the point of no return. 

 

“Look, as much as I get off on watching gods kill each other,” Angrboða’s husky voice boomed loudly from atop a tree. “I have plans for the bearded one.” She hoped down in front of Atreus and lifted both her swollen fists in front of her shoulders and chin to ready herself offensively. “So be a good old washed up hag and fuck right off, yeah? Maybe take the scrawny one with you? Would save me a lot of trouble.”

Freya wasted no time and quickly dove sword first at the giantess. Angrboða leaped into the air and with a balled up fist, threw a bone crushing punch down onto the back of Freya’s exposed neck. The Vanir goddess screamed out in pain as she was forced down into the ground. Angrboða landed next to the Valkyrie and with her bare foot, kicked her square into her gut. Cracking several of the malachite gemstones adorning her belt.  
“She’s about to kill her, she can’t die yet. Not until-” Sigyn whispered softly next to Atreus, his voice was frantic yet doleful. Did Sigyn mean Freya was about to die? “I’m- I’m so sorry.” Before Atreus could ponder what he was talking about, Freya’s wings extended violently and hit the giantess. Using this moment to catch her off her guard, she snatched Angrboða by her neck and stood to her feet. “Savage little whore. You're just a cheap imitation of what she was,” Freya said. Angrboða was done for, her sandy face turning purple as she frantically kicked her legs in the air. She kept her hands on the goddesses’ wrist to hold herself from strangling to death.

“Δείξε μου.”

With both hands holding the Blades of Chaos, Atreus rushes at the goddess and swipes at her left wing. They were still hard to balance in his hands. While the craftsmanship of the weapons was impeccable, he struggled with their weight. These weapons were made to anchor two chains in battle. Their small size and heavy feel weren’t very practical without the reach of the chains to aid him. Still, _he made do with what he had_ and continued slashing at the Valkyrie goddess before him.  
“Let her go!” He screamed as he made contact with a few metal feathers and a long thick strand of her disheveled hair.  
Freya quickly dropped the giantess and leaped back to face Atreus. Angrboða collapsed onto the ground, her face struggling to retain color. Atreus stood above the feral girl protectively as he glared at his once friend.  
“Please, Freya, don’t do this.”

“I was a fool to hold onto you so close!” Her voice was vicious, but not entirely dismissive. Then, with an air of sadness, she lifted her sword and rushed forwards to Atreus and Angrboða.  
Suddenly, Sigyn appeared behind the Valkyrie, his eyes broken and his expression cold.

The next moment was hard to decipher in his mind. It all happened so fast, or it wasn’t fast at all. It was as if when he blinked, time stood still, then as his eyes reopened the world continued forwards. A flash of Sigyn’s beautiful amethyst eyes, the feeling of moisture on Atreus’ lips, a light gust of wind.  
Then, as his eyes fully shifted into focus Freya was gone, as was Sigyn.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ### Laufey

The adults were talking, that means Laufey had to stay silent.

Today she had planned on practicing balancing on her tiptoes in the courtyard. She decided, the week prior, walking on her regular old flat feet was boring and something only a god would do. The gods were powerful and cruel, the bad guys in the storied her handmaidens would read to her. She wanted to prove she was better than a god and decided she would henceforth, walk on her tiptoes until the day she dies.

 

With a defeated sigh, Laufey silently wobbled on her tiptoes in the crowded courtyard in front of her home. Her plans for today had abruptly changed. Last night father couldn’t get out of bed, and mother hadn’t stopped crying since. Even now as Laufey held onto her mother’s cold bony fingers she could still feel the dampness of tears on her liver spot ridden, hand. She had never seen her mother cry this much before last night. She wasn’t hurt, was mother simply upset father didn’t want to get out of bed and eat the dinner the cooks had prepared? As Laufey tried remembering what all they had for supper last night her giantess mother had bent over and picked her up in her arms. She took a moment from talking to Laufey’s great-great-great-nephew and smiled sweetly at her. Her sapphire blue eyes had faded long before Laufey was even born. All Laufey knew of her eyes was a cloudy silver with a translucent black center. The eyes of her beloved, kind-hearted queen mother.

“Mommy, why are all these people here?” Laufey whispered in her mother’s ear as she surveyed the scene from her new higher elevation.  
“Our family has come to visit Papa.”  
Laufey wrapped her arms around her mother’s neck and peered out from her shoulder at her extended family. All 399 of her siblings were here, along with all her countless nieces and nephews and their children and children’s children. Thankfully the castle’s yard was big enough to hold most of them comfortably, but she worried about the state the courtyard would be left in once everybody went home. She and the gardener had just set up an obstacle course made from rocks and sticks the day before to help her balance on her toes. Would it still be there tomorrow for the two of them to play with?  
Mother began walking forwards in the sea of giants. As if by a magical spell everyone moved aside to allow her to get by. Laufey dipped her mouth and nose into her mother’s shoulder bashfully as many of her distant relatives bowed down at the sight of them. 

Once they reached the inner walls of their castle Laufey peeked her head up as she began to recognize some of her siblings inside. Her brother, Thrym, turned from his serious-looking discussion with several other of her older brothers and puffed out both his cheeks while simultaneously crossed his eyes at Laufey. She giggled at the sight of him and returned his gesture by sticking her tongue out and attempting to cross her own eyes. She wasn’t sure if she was doing it properly, you just open them widely and shift them around, right?  
She successfully managed to get him to chuckle at her as they approached him in the great hall. Mother smiled warmly at the sight of him and this caused his face to soften as his head, as well as her other brothers, dipped down slightly. Mother continued to walk forwards to father’s room as Laufey waved a shy goodbye to her teenage brother. Thrym was the last of her siblings to venture off into the world, leaving Laufey the only one left in the entire castle. She missed him terribly when he was gone, but every month he would return from his adventures along with several presents for her.  
As they reach mother and father’s room her eldest brother stood guard at the door. He was almost as old as mother and father. Laufey didn’t know much about him, only that when father wasn't king anymore, he would be. But that always confused Laufey, why would father ever stop wanting to be king? Would her eldest brother move back into the castle? If so what room would he want to live in? She wondered if she would be able to keep her room or if he would give it to his great-great-granddaughter who just so happens to be her same age? He kept a stoic face as she and mother passed by him into the massive bedroom.

 

There lay her father, Bergelmir.

 

Just as mother set her down beside the large bed, she scurried into his massive arms. Her father engulfed her tiny body into his chest and placed a soft kiss onto her forehead.  
“How’s the practice going today twinkle toes?” He said in a booming, yet, weak voice.  
Laufey looked up from his grasp and smiled wickedly at her papa. “They’ll never catch me walking like a flat-footed smelly old god!”  
A roaring laughter erupted from Burglmir’s lungs as he let go of her and patted her head gently. “My baby girl.” He said with a warm smile.

“We can’t really help the smell, but what of this flat-footed thing?” Another man’s voice said from across the room. Laufey snapped her body around to the familiar sounding voice.  
“Uncle Tyr!” She shouted happily as she jumped off the bed and ran into the god’s arms. She loved how she didn't have to reach or look up at him. He was the same size as her! The jolly, plump, rosy-cheeked man returned her hug with one arm while stroking his curly white beard with the other.  
“Caught you!” Her father said, she let go of Tyr and placed both hands over her mouth at the realization she forgot to run on her tiptoes.  
“Guess that makes the princess a smelly old god, just like me,” Tyr said as he folded his arms behind his back.

“My daughter would never betray her people,” Bergelmir said to Tyr with a sly wink.  
Tyr in return smiled back, “no I suppose she wouldn’t, would you?” He said looking down to her. Laufey was a bit confused by their actions, what did betray mean again? If it was a bad thing she would definitely have nothing to do with it.  
Tyr may be a god, but he was different. Mother and father liked him and told Laufey one day when she was older, the gods would grow as good as Tyr. Until that day comes, she must never trust the gods.  
“Laufey, come here child.” Her father said suddenly.  
Laufey tiptoed her way back to the bed and held her father’s hand. “I have a very important thing to ask you. While I may be your father I’m also your king. And right now, I need to ask you to do something as not just your father, but your king.”  
Laufey kept quiet as he continued.  
“I’m sending you on a sensitive diplomatic mission to represent the giants. You must be strong on this journey, learn and absorb everything you see and experience.”  
“What does dip-lo-matic mean?” Laufey asked.  
From the foot of the bed, she saw mother beginning to tremble silently. Tyr placed a hand on her shoulder as she sniffed in several times through her nose.

“It means you must see with eyes unclouded,” Tyr said. It was strange for uncle Tyr to act to seriously around her. Usually, he would play tricks on her and give her sweets and books with large pictures in them. Was everything okay she wondered?  
“Where am I going? You and mother are coming with me? What about my handmaiden? Can she come too?” Laufey asked. She didn’t really understand what he was telling her, but it sounded as if she would be leaving home for a little while. Who would brush her hair, make her supper, and lay in bed with her at night?  
“No, we will not be coming with you.”  
“But you won’t be alone.” She heard her mother say as she quickly wiped away her tears.  
“I will be accompanying you,” Tyr followed up as he stepped forward to her.  
“So you’re my new handmaiden?” Laufey said.  
She could hear her father chuckling as Tyr responded. “In a way princess, I’ll be your traveling companion on this journey. I will keep you safe and maybe learn a few things from you along the way.”  
“You leave at once my daughter.” Her father said.

“She’s only 6 my love..-“ her mother said before she was interrupted by Bergelmir.  
“Nal, Once I’m gone he will open Jotunheim to the gods. You know how curious our firstborn has always been when it comes to the gods. We must face the facts, Mimir successfully sweet-talked his way into our son’s mind. No matter what we tell that boy, he will try and broker peace with Odin. You heard what Tyr has offered us, this was what we once dreamed of my wife.”  
Tyr began talking. “While I want to believe there’s still good in him, I’ll continue to advise caution to your son when it comes to Odin. Keep your castle fortified, continue your great- granddaughter's training. Groa is proving results, she truly is gifted in Nal’s future sight.”

Oh, they were talking about Groa, Laufey met her before. Once she started having her strange dreams, father summoned a beautiful young woman with lots of books to sit down and talk to Laufey about them. She remembered Groa letting her braid her hair as they spoke about her dreams of bears, wolves, and yellow water made from little round fruits that made her throat burn. The conversation continued around her as she recalled her memory.

“Mimir’s desires were once cloudy for me to pin down, but with Groa’s help, I see a clear path in his actions. Robin Goodfellow’s only goal is peace for this world and his new king. The great war has drained Odin. Perhaps he may, in fact, be sincere in his peace treaty to your people. But as your friend, I still recommend a...”  
Tyr’s eyes dash to Laufey for a split moment, “ _back up plan.”_ Tyr cleared his throat and continues on. “I've gathered a representative from each realm to come to Midgard. Continue to sow your people’s seeds there, your great-grandchildren are happy there living among the other races. Before the inevitable greed of man seeps its way into our hearts let us band together and fortify Midgard as a communal land. If Freyr’s 'gift' to Odin truly has caused him to turn over a new leaf and soften his heart with her beauty, the giants in Midgard won’t have to worry about his wrath. Your family may finally be able to join us openly in this young land without fear. Together, my friend, we will share and collaborate our knowledge and resources! Build a better world, all of us together!”

“But why her?” Laufey’s mother asked. “Why not any of our other daughters? They are mature and wise. They know how to swing a sword and protect themselves! Laufey is… she is…-” 

“...unseen in Groa’s visions,” Tyr said wistfully. “In time, your grace, she will swing a weapon of her own.” 

Laufey’s mother began crying as the room fell awkwardly still for several moments.  
“Go with your mother and pack your things.” Her father said gently. “This journey may take a little while, make sure to say goodbye to your brothers and sisters before you head out.”  
Laufey began walking away from his bed but was swiftly pulled back into his tight embrace. Her papa smoothed his calloused fingers through her hair and pressed his dry lips onto her pale forehead several quick times. “My Faye, how I wish time could stand still and I could stay with you forever, watch you grow like the rest of them.” 

She couldn’t see his face but it felt like he was no longer talking to her.  
“She is my youngest child, my final gift, my last act of rebellion against him. If anything befalls her...”  
Tyr spoke, “you have my world old friend. This child will live to see as many summers as you.”  
Nal scooped Laufey up into her arms and carried her away to her room to pack. Maybe father would be out of bed by the time she returned home? 

“I love you papa! Feel better soon! I can’t wait to show you what I made in the garden!” She shouted at him as they left his room. Her eldest brother dropped his protective stance at the door and looked upon her with empathy. Her beloved mother squeezed her tightly all while trembling. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ### Kratos

He wondered how long he had been traveling this godforsaken city? His feet were starting to bother him, and the relentless jingling sounds his detached chains made with each step drove him closer and closer to the brink of madness. Still, stepping foot in this city, an actual functioning city, brought forth a slight comfort to him. Though he avoided all contact with the mortals around him, he found himself unable to rid himself of a woman on her knees before him. He was drowning most of her hysterics out, only allowing her to drone on as he juggled something in his mind. Her face, he felt like he recognized her somehow.  
“Lord Kratos, I know you won’t believe me. But I can not peacefully leave this life until I tell you the truth.” She said. 

The mature woman had a certain familiarity surrounding her. Kratos kept his face hidden underneath the red and gold hooded cloak as she continued in her tearful delirium. Although the rain had finally stopped its relentless downpour on this country, the land was far from anything near what he once remembered Greece being. The closer he looked at the city, the more he realized how wrong he was to allow comfort to come from it. The bodies that lined the corners of alleyways were not victims of Zuse’s plagues, no these were victims of other men. 

“14 years ago my sister and I were prisoners to the Persian King. He kept us locked away and only visited us to quench his twisted desires.” She took a moment to gather herself, wrapping her bruised arms around her chest as she continued. “You saved us from the endless nightmare he subjected us. We had nothing to offer the god of war as a thank you, so we offered ourselves.”

Kratos’ eyes drifted from surveying the city to the kneeling woman before him. He finally remembered her face, the twins with chestnut hair in the stronghold of Attica. Though time had certainly not been kind to this woman, he did recall her and her sister’s ‘offering’ back when he still sat licking Ares’ throne. Though he wasn’t sure which one she was, the one who took him with her mouth, or her cunt?

“Speak quickly women, I have no desire to rekindle a dull flame from years ago.”

The woman removed her arms from her chest and pressed her trembling palms together as she pleaded towards him.  
“Our child.” She hid her face in her hands, “My lord the child we made that night, I can not control him anymore.”

Kratos stood tall before the weeping woman. A child? His mind cycled through several emotions and response all at once. Surely this was a trick, a pitiful attempt at a handout from a desperate woman down on her luck In this post-apocalyptic world?  
“Why should I care that you are incapable of controlling a loveless bastard?”  
“He is no ordinary child my lord!”  
“I do not care!” He snapped, “this world is on the brink of ruin. I suggest the two of you find a hole and pray a quick death visits you before the plagues do.” Kratos spat out coldly.

A bastard child. He never considered the possibility. He had a good mind to remove himself from women before the act was finished. But once he ascended into the role of the god's lap dog and true power gripped ahold of his mind, he allowed confidence to override his good sense, especially while in the middle of the act with women.

Even still, how did he know she was telling the truth? To throw herself at him with a claim such as this but hold no babe in her arms. If he truly did sire her bastard all those years ago he’d be a young man by now, her job as a parent was done. The young man is responsible for himself now.  
Kratos allowed a fleeting moment of pity to enter his mind.  


A young bastard boy, born a demigod. Alone, without a father to...-

“I’m begging you, my lord. Please, just talk to him.” She interrupted his thoughts.  
Kratos sneered at the woman on the ground before him. With a crinkled nose, he lifted the hood of his cloak and walked over her to immediately end the conversation before his mind wondered further.  
As he walked away from her he felt her trembling hand grasp his ankle tightly. “He knows who you are...-“ before she could finish Kratos brought the back of his hand to the side of her face in order to remove her constraint on him. Even holding back his full might his godly strength was enough to silence her as she fell unconscious to the ground. He didn’t bother looking back at her once he started walking away. Emotions swirl in his head, unable to process the severity of the situation. Kratos allowed anger and rage to take center stage of his mind.

* * *

“His strength is terrifying! Some say he is stronger than Heracles was!” A man says off in the distance. “He can’t be a god, they’re all dead I thought?” Another younger man’s voice said. “He has to be, he doesn’t kill like a man, He slaughters like a god.”  
Kratos silently approached the two men talking. He didn’t even bother looking at their faces as he gripped the neck of one of them and snapped it viciously. The other man quickly ran off in horror but didn’t get far before Kratos caught him by the back of his neck. As the man screamed out his pleas and terror, Kratos could have sworn he heard a singing voice coming from the Blades of Chaos attached to his back.  
“Where is this god?” Kratos demands from the man.  
“Please don’t kill me! Please, I’ll give you everything I have!” The man cries.  
Annoyed, Kratos squeezes his grip around the man’s neck and asks one more time. “Where is he?”  
Life begins to escape him as his face changes color and blood rushes to his eyes. From his throat, his final words escape his mouth. “He’s here, somewhere in Rhodes.” The man’s eyes rolled upwards into his head as the now blue veins in his face struggled to pump the last rivers of blood from his suffocating heart. Once the trembling body stiffened and the smell of fresh shit filled the air, Kratos released the lifeless body and moved on as his mind struggled to subdue his reckless emotions.

 

He could never be a father. That part of his life was torn from him years ago. Calliope’s voice grew more and more distant each year. Sometimes in his dreams, her voice would mix together with Lysandra as she rode on top of his shoulders happily. How many years ago had it been since he held her? Perhaps she would sound like her mother by now?

Aggravated with himself, Kratos banished the thoughts from his mind and focused on getting through Rhoads as fast as possible.

 

* * *

The deeper Kratos ventured inside the ruined city of Rhodes the more deplorable the environment appeared. The Once mighty temples erected to honor the gods lay in ruin, the bustling stone roads were cracked and barren of any activity. It seemed like the residents choose to lay their dead along the roadside instead of travel on it. He could tell a great bit by the state of the bodies as he allowed his eyes to drift down and examine them. Some were carefully wrapped up with jars of, now empty, oil sitting next to them. Others were simply hauled off a cart while still naked and dumped one next to the other. Kratos lost count of the corpses as he walked deeper into the city.  
The sounds of screaming women and children filled the air around him as he finally reached a more populated area.  
A circle of young men spotted him and all began whispering to themselves as they eyed him up. “Hey old man!” One of them called out, “got anything to eat underneath that big cloak of yours?” He could hear several of the young men snickering in the background. Kratos chose to ignore them and continue forwards. Foolishly, the young man ran after him. The foolishness of youth Kratos thought to himself. As the young man got closer to him Kratos realized just how small boy was compared to him. To tempt death this eagerly, what recklessness.  
“Hey, I’m talking to you old man.” He reached for Kratos’s arm, “Don’t ignore...”  
As the man touched his bandaged forearm, Kratos allowed his rage to take hold of him. The arm that tried subduing the God of War became entrapped in Kratos’ massive white hands. His other arm shot out violently from underneath his red cloak, causing it to flutter upwards revealing his body to the terrified young man. “Zelus!!! It’s HIM!” He begins to cry out but before he could make another sound Kratos slammed his open hand into the young man’s nose, impaling the boy’s brain with his own skull. The limp body fell coldly at his feet before the first drops of blood spilled out from his face. Suddenly Kratos felt a disturbingly haunting presence around him, almost like A demigod, but, they’re all gone he thought. The chilling voice of a young man who had just found his mature voice rattled Kratos to the bone as he began speaking behind him.

 

 _“Mother always said I got my temper from you.”_  
Slowly, as to not give this possible enemy any sign of his fear, Kratos turned his body around with his feet to look upon the young-sounding man.  
Deimos? No, it couldn't be, but it looked just like him.  
Kratos almost reached for the hood of his cloak to reassure it was covering his face, as his eyes scanned the boy for any weapons he struggled to peel his gaze away from his eyes.  
His daughter’s eyes.  
How long had it been since he was caught this off guard?  
“Mother told me so much about you.” His eyes were painful to look upon, though they looked like Calliope's, they were twisted and cruel, showing all the signs of a man who lost himself to madness.  
“What do you want, boy?” Kratos said sternly, withholding all emotion from his words.  
This seemed to set the young man off, his face twisted into a demented smile as he inched closer to him. Kratos ignored his approach as he took note of the 4 other boys hiding in the shadows all around him. “All my life I was cast out as being a sickly freak, chained to my bed with my mother huddling over me. Spoon feeding me and telling me everything was going to be fine even though nightmares plagued me every day of my life.” Kratos kept silent as he got closer and closer to him. “All the other kids, they got to play in the sun… That’s all I wanted. Just a normal life. Do you have any idea how jealous that makes a kid? But then I found out mother robed everything from me.” Kratos finally engaged in this tangent. “What did she do?” He rasps  
The boy’s smile disappeared from his face. “It doesn't matter now, I know the truth. I know what I am.” The boy disappears from Kratos’ vision, leaving only a gust of wind in his place. “I was never weak at all!” He said as he appeared behind him and threw a devastating punch into his lower back. Kratos felt a sting of pain, then four claws slicing deep into his skin.  
As he winced in pain he jolted forward to avoid another attack from the boy now hidden in the shadows.  
“That wasn't you voice I just heard?” The boy questioned, unseen from Kratos’ vision. Kratos didn't pay attention to the boy as he lunged forward towards the sound of his voice to attack him. The blades of chaos jingling loosely in his sack.  
“All this time, I was a god, not just a god… the son of the most ruthless god there is. I’ll punish every single child who ran happily across my bedroom window all those years ago. Enjoying what she stole from me. I am determined to…-” Kratos found him and snatched his neck in both hands, he was strong, but he was still so much smaller than him. Kratos needed to kill this abomination before he grew into a man and would one day pose a threat to him.  
As the young man squirmed helplessly in his grasp, a dull flame began to sizzle around his skin, the ebony pupils in his head began dripping downward, a black sludge oozing out from his eye sockets. Kratos recoiled in disgust, as he did so his grip loosened up on the screaming boy. He lifted his free hand to his eyes and began clawing at them painfully. His dull fingernails leaving bloody trails down his cheek. “Help me! Mother!” The boy screamed out in fear as the black ooze swirled together with his blood on his cheek. Kratos decided the boy was no longer a threat to him as this, this curse took hold of him. He released his grip onto his small body and allowed the boy to fall to the ground and curl up into a ball. As if cast by Zeus himself, a sea of grey storm clouds stormed violently across the sky. Relentless lightning soon became the only source of light in the city. “What are these voices?” The boy screams while clawing at his eyes. “Who is talking to me!?” Kratos felt the blades of chaos shift on his back. 

“Zelus!” A woman’s voice shouted through the now heavy downpour of rain. The boy's mother frantically emerged onto the scene and ran over to her son. Kratos backed away silently as she engulfed the boy into her frail arms and embraced him. “Shhhh, it’s okay, I’m here.” She said softly, the way only a loving mother could speak to her child. “I don’t want to kill her!” The boy shouted while pressed into her breast. “Shut up, stop talking all at once!”  
“Zelus baby, who is talking to you…-”  
Kratos suddenly lost sight of the child and braced himself for a fight. Using the same trick as before the boy appeared behind the god of war, only this time, Kratos was prepared for an incoming blow to his back. As he swung his balled up fist to strike at the child he discovered the boy was in fact, not using the same move on him. Instead, the boy reached underneath his cloak and ripped both Blades from Kratos’ pouch.  
Shock and rage began to swell in Kratos’s mind as he reached for the cursed weapons but found both of them missing.  
“You do not want them.” Kratos rasped as he glared at the boy in front of him.  
“I will not disappoint you! I will follow your every command!” The boy wasn't speaking to Kratos or his own mother, but the blade’s themselves. “Just tell me what to do to make the pain go away!”  
The young man’s expression broke the heart of his mother kneeling on the ground before them. Even with the love only a mother could contain in her heart, she must know how gone this child was. He must be stopped. Kratos readied himself to put down this child demigod once and for all. 

Long ago Kratos learned to close his heart to his enemies suffering. Without him realizing it, he began treating all around him as enemies. Feeling little to nothing for anyone or anything around him. Even as his bastard son stood before him, he felt nothing, no connection to this child he supposedly sired. With a chill in the air, as well as his heart, the god of war threw himself at the boy. He easily overpowered the young demigod and held the frantically squirming body still as he tore the cursed blades out from his hands. It all happened so fast, he could barely hear the boy’s mother screaming for them to stop before Kratos plunged both blades into Zelus’ eyes and back out his skull.  
His heart felt nothing, but his mind wondered how many other demigods were still alive in Greece?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The holidays are officially here in my part of the world. Sorry for the slow updates, I promise once January rolls in we'll be back to our regular once a week format! 
> 
> I will definitely keep posting chapters, but they may be sporadic and out of the blue. 
> 
> (PS: Thank you so much for the feedback on this fic so far, Y'all make me so happy! <3)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ### Atreus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long delay! Thankfully the holidays are officially over and I can get back to posting chapters at a much quicker rate!  
> Enjoy! <3

A silence fell over the once chaotic scene.  
Freya was gone.

Atreus’ heart was still pounding inside his chest. She almost killed him, or worse, he almost killed her. The blades felt hot in his hands, he freed his grip on the leather pommel to reposition his grasp on them. A stinging pain shot into his fingertips upon doing so. Confused, he lifted his left arm to examine the weapon as he tried forcing his hand open again. Realization showed itself, his skin had started fusing onto the blades of chaos. He struggled through the pain and finally forced his hand to open completely, a layer of skin peeling away from his fingers. Atreus muffled his screams of pain as he examined the now bloody pommel clinging onto the open palm of his hand. With the other blade, he flayed the tip of the blade from his skin, attempting to separate himself from the weapon with as little damage to his skin as possible. He didn’t quite complete his goal. The blade fell to the ground with a thin layer of his flesh stuck to the pommel. Before he had time to react to the pain he picked the weapon back up off the ground and attempted the same technique on his other hand. Severing the blade from his hand. The blood from his left hand began bubbling violently as he picked back up the blade.  
The smell of boiling flesh filled the air, the blade he just picked back up was already adhering to his skin. The heat from the weapons overtook his composure and he screamed out loudly in pain as he pulled the once again stuck blades from his flesh. It frustrated and enraged him as he kept failing to free himself from the blades. Atreus felt an all too familiar heat festering inside his throat. The rage his father taught him to temper.  
‘That was it!’ He thought.

“Uggh. What happened?” Angrboda said as she struggled to sit up from the ground, still shaken up from her previous fight with the goddess.

While kneeling onto the ground Atreus allowed his bloody hands to flop to each side as he closed his eyes and lifted his chin upwards to the sky.  
His father’s words echoed in his mind. _‘Control it, it doesn't control you.’_  
Simultaneously, His eyes shot open and his mouth opened to release an earth-shattering scream. His cry suddenly transformed into a howl as he felt his bones shift painfully all at once. His skin stretched outwards as a flame engulfed his entire body. All color left his vision, the world around him transformed into a glossy red and grey hue. He immediately recognized every living creature around him, from the small ants crawling underneath the ground to the flock of birds soaring high above him. His senses came alive as his new form took over.

Angrboda gasped at the great flaming beast before her. Atreus felt like a wolf, but deep down he knew he was far removed from that fantasy. In the place of fur, there were only the spartan flames of his ancestors engulfing his beast-like form. Based off the reactions he received when in this form he knew he wasn’t a beautiful majestic creature he had often dreamed of transforming into... but a nightmarish Hel hound as painful to look upon as it was to sustain.  
He ignored the giantess as he unhinged his massive jaws and chomped down onto the now minuscule blades stuck onto the pads of his flaming paws. He maneuvered his anterior incisors around the weapon on his right paw and began gnawing at his flesh. Desperately trying to free himself from his father’s cursed blades.

The woman’s voice shouted at him in his father’s ancient tongue. She scolded him for forcing her hands. _“Αν μόνο κράτησες τις αλυσίδες.”_

While Atreus was adrift inside this form he struggled to maintain a level head and calm composure. He snarled at the foreign voices as they took turns speaking down to him.  
Try as he might he couldn’t rip the blades from his paws, his frustrations tore into him as his flames grew wilder on his naked blistered skin. Without realizing it he began losing his humanity as he gave in to his primal instincts. If he chewed his paws off he would finally be free of these cursed weapons.  
While lost in his rage he moved his jaws up from his paws and began gnawing at his leg. His throat produced a terrifying sound as if a thousand wolves snarling and yelping in pain all mixed together.  
Suddenly he felt small hands pushing away his snout. Instinctively he snapped at whatever was touching him. Angrboda, but she was too quick for his strike and had vaulted backward to avoid his attack.

“Steady boy.” She hesitated as she held her hands out and approached him once again. Atreus allowed her closer, she was a friend right?  
_“Όχι, θα μας βλάψει.”_  
_“Η κακή της”_  
He shook the voices away violently as he snarled at the young woman when she got too close to his paws.  
“Let me help you, idiot.” She murmured under her breath.  
Angrboda took her fearful eyes off his own and bent down and slowly attempted to pick up his right paw from off the ground. His flames burning her skin instantly upon contact. Her skin felt soft to his touch. While not as soft as Sigyn's, the same hauntingly familiarity echoed through her contact with him. As if he had touched her a thousand times before this very moment. ‘You should meet her halfway.’ He tells himself as he lifted the paw up himself.  
_“Θα πρέπει να τραβήξετε το λαιμό από τους ώμους της.”_ An older man told him.

Angrboda quickly maneuvers under his paw and through the flames, gripped ahold of the blade and started pulling it from his flesh. Atreus flinched his face into the air and howled a painful roar into the sky. “Hold still you big, ugly, freak.” She shouts through clenched teeth as she finally rips the blade free from his paw. Wasting no time she threw his leg to the side and attempted to lift his other paw above her head to work on the other blade. The pain was overwhelming for Atreus to assist her in holding his own leg up in the air. She rested his heavy paw atop her head and shoulders as she struggled to balance herself while simultaneously pulling the blade away. The pain was hard to endure, his left paw bloody from the wound she left behind was holding his weight up as she lifted his right above her head. He had to take his weight off that paw, but that would crush the giantess underneath his right paw. As the pain engulfed him he struggled to regain composure. She was already suffering multiple burns from his ‘fur.’

Finally, the giantess threw the other blade onto the ground and ran out from underneath his weight. As his paw hit the ground the wound tormented him and the massive burning beast flopped down onto his side and whimpered painfully.  
Angrboda, still gasping for air, slowly inched closer to him. “You really are him aren’t you.” With the back of her hand, she pressed it against his sagging snout. Her touch felt so comforting, just like how his mother would smooth the tears from his eyes with the back of her index finger.  
The world began expanding around him as he shrank back down to a more familiar size next to the giantess. Finally, as he lay naked in front of her in a pool of his own blood he closed his eyes to rest.

* * *

  
_“What of the name my love?” Atreus said smiling, his heart was so full he felt like it could burst right out of his chest. A cool, calming breeze answered his question. With happy tears forming in his eyes, Atreus nodded his head in agreement. “My little Narfi. Welcome to the world._ ”  


* * *

He awoke from his dreams to a beautiful woven tapestry above his head. Blue and gold shapes paintings a dazzling abstract picture in his mind. His senses awoke to the room around him. He lay in a soft luxurious feathered bed with silk sheets covering his half naked body. The smell of honey and freshly baked bread moved his face over to a gold painted table sitting next to the grand canopy bed he occupied

What is all of this?

As he moved to sit up he winced painfully, his hands were killing him. Memories of what occurred before he passed out dance in his mind. Slowly Atreus lifted his hands to his face. Someone had wrapped them tightly up in freshly made bandages. He saw the red stains of blood seeping through the fabric, reminding him of what his father’s arms looked like all throughout his childhood years ago.

“The princess finally awakens from her slumber.” Angrboda’s brassy voice echoed in the massive bedroom. Her voice wasn't as kind and caring as Sigyn's was when he would softly encourage him to wake up after a long night of stories, good food, and laughter. Wasn't he just with Sigyn a moment ago? The memories began dripping down onto his mind, like an acidy poison.  
“Sigyn!” Atreus shouted.  
“Nope,” Angrboda said, seemingly ignoring his distress. She rolled her neck back and rocked it to the left several sharp times. Loud popping sounds erupting from her sandy skin with each rock. “That thing you were traveling with isn't here. All for the best, if it was it would be locked up and gaged in a dark cell.  
Atreus relaxed his shoulders slightly but narrowed his eyebrows at the beautiful woman in front of him.  
“ _HE_ is my friend. And if you continue to speak poorly of _HIM_ I’ll…” He, he’ll what he thinks?  
“Oh my, the puppy has claws.” Angrboda thankfully interrupted him. “Well whatever, it, he, whatever, they’re gone. Thankfully along with Odin’s old hag.”  
That's right, Freya… wait. “Don’t call her that!” Atreus snaped.  
“Oh, I’m sorry you still have feelings for the old woman who almost killed us? Tell me, how long did you wait after Laufey was dead before you were you nursing off her Vanir tits?” She paused and gave a slight chuckle as she rolled her head to the other side, several more popping clicks erupting from her neck. “Or did your daddy not share them with you once he started sucking on them?” 

Before his father’s voice echoed in his mind to tell him to block it out, Atreus threw himself at the girl. In his movement, rage engulfed his eyes and a thick suffocating flame took control of his body. He found himself mounted on top of Angrboda’s back. His knees restraining her lower body as well as her thrashing arms. With his right hand, he griped a wad of her hair and pulled it along with her face towards his bearded face. His other hand gripped her exposed neck and slid firmly underneath her chin, clenching her lower jaw. “If you **ever…-”**

“Okay lovebirds!” A booming voice interrupted him, providing an opening for his father’s wisdom to reach his mind. What was he doing? Oh, gods. He didn't mean to hurt her like this. “Angrboda, I’m so…-”  
“Save your bedroom antics for the bedroom.” The man’s voice said with no hint of concern for witnessing the scene before him.  
“Uh, aren't we are in a bedroom your majesty?” Angrboda said still underneath Atreus’ legs. He quickly jumped off her and stood up with his arm extended to help her off the ground. She rolled to her back as smoothly as a serpent would move and with her back still on the ground she lifted her but along with her two legs and swiftly kicked both her feet into Atreus’ gut, causing him to keel over.  
As he slowly fell she vaulted herself up onto her feet and stood over him and whispered. “Nice try pup, but you're never gonna be on top.”  
Instead of extending an arm out to him, she snatched his wrist in her hand and yanked him to his feet. Atreus retracted away from her grasp and quickly put his arm over his aching gut. “Who are you?” He said in a wheeze.  
Atreus realized now why the room was so big.  
This man could barely fit in it. Familiar auburn hair kept is dredlocks swung downwards as the giant man hunched over in order to fit in the room. He was dressed like royalty. White furs and golden wool inscribed his thick metal armor. The man smiled behind a short beard that curled in a similar way as his own. “Loki I presume?” He said. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you, young man.”  
Angrboda moved closer to Atreus’ side and spoke in a more gentle tone. “Bow you, idiot, this is Thrym, your uncle. King of all Giants.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ### Laufey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I'm in need of a beta reader! If you would like to volunteer, DM me on twitter. In the meantime, if you see a slip up in my writing feel free to point it out below. Thanks y'all.)

“Princess,” Tyr’s soft voice whispered into her ear. “It’s time to wake up.”  
Laufey felt his chubby hands brush softly along her shoulder blades. Making sure they avoided the bruises she picked up three days ago. She knew why he wanted her to wake up, more ‘training.’  
Her body was still aching from the sparring session last night. Today was her birthday she remembered, was the old man really going to make her do this today?  
“Come on birthday girl,” Tyr smiled happily down at her. Upon hearing him acknowledge what today was Laufey decided to peek one of her eyes open and make sure he wasn't holding a gift or something sweet to eat. As her vision steadied itself on the God of War, she noticed him smiling sweetly through rosy red cheeks down at her. Only then did she see the hovering bolder above Tyr's head, plummeting down onto her. 

Laufey quickly shot both eyes open and with a gasp, pushed her upper body up off the ground and into a kneeling position. From there she jumped off the ground and dodged his incoming attack. The bolder slammed into the stone ground violently, cracking the still warm spot she’d been sleeping on in two. Before she caught her breath she felt two cold hands apprehend her from behind. One placed a rough palm around her neck while the other attempted to reach for her arms. Laufey brought both elbows to the side of her ribs and balled each hand into a fist before violently extending her elbows behind her and piercing her apprehender in the chest. Her elbows punctured through solid stone, crumbling the stone soldier to dust. She felt the hand around her neck plunge helplessly to the snow-covered ground.  
Exhausted, yet filled with adrenalin, Laufey sighed and relaxed her defensive position. She was immediately subdued by another stone soldier, this time it managed to pin her to the ground and mount her hips, aiming a stone sword at her exposed throat. The expressionless construction motioned to pierce her neck but stopped inches before the dense blunt weapon struck her. 

“Always expect two,” Tyr said approaching her. With ease, Tyr threw the stationary statue off Laufey. “I promised your father you would live a long and happy life.” He extended his soft chubby hand out to help her up, she accepted his gesture and dusted the debris off her dress. The God of War brought both his hands together in order to tuck them away inside his oversized barrel sleeves. His eyes lifted casually from Laufey into the air, retaining the same smile he kept on his face right before he attacked her. “Eleven, is that right?”  
“Yes, sir.” Laufey quickly answered. She was still in her master-apprentice mindset she had fallen into over the past several years while together with the Aesir god.  
Tyr stood motionless for several moments. Allowing the crisp morning air to blow softly onto his face. The beauty of Midgard surrounded them. The spring had begun melting away the winter’s snow from the trees. The soft sound of water dripping off icicles mixed together with the singing of songbirds seeking out a partner. If she concentrated, she could hear the sound of the river’s rushing water becoming more and more audible through the melting layer of ice that sat atop the water. Tyr was right about Midgard, this place was truly breathtaking. A piece of art not just created by one, but all working together in harmony. Giants, gods, dwarfs, elves, even trolls, all of them living happily together under the same sky. Laufey kept her attention on the god before her, he still hadn't moved yet. It was as if his mind had left him and relocated in someone or something else. Laufey noticed Tyr doing this long ago when they first began their journey together, disengaging completely from mid-conversation from time to time. 

“Heh,” he said suddenly while drifting his eyes back to her. “We still have a long way to go princess.” He unclasped his hands from underneath his sleeves and extended one out to her with a slight bow of his head. “I have a gift for you. But you must help me retrieve it.”

* * *

 

Together, hand in hand, they made their way inside Tyr's vault. From the first day of its construction, the majestic labyrinth always frightened Laufey upon first entering. She couldn't pinpoint the reasoning behind her fear of this place. Whenever they walked in unison together, the clicking of their boots on the floor would echo back to her with a strange disassociation. Almost as if, Laufey wasn't hearing their footsteps, but the steps of two other people. Laufey rarely took her eyes off Tyr whenever she was with him, but when she was allowed inside his vault she couldn't help but gaze at the beauty of it. The three rings orbiting above her head periodically blinded her as they took turns shielding the artifact he kept hidden behind them. The way the roots of the world tree itself intertwined along the ground, pulsating with life every so often. Tyr moved quickly to a hallway with a stack of blocks off to the side. ‘They must still not be finished with this room yet’ she thinks to herself. As they move deeper inside she begins to hear the tinkering of hammers and the commotion of men working on something. Through there the two of them came upon a large room with a tall ceiling. ‘Still under construction,’ she thinks while looking around. Laufey sees several dwarfs attached to pulley ropes, carving an outline into the wall. Below them, a few trolls were lifting massive slabs of iron off the ground as dwarfs help direct them where to place it. A gruff voice reverberated from inside the room.  
“Ya know it’s polite for the inspector to warn before they come barging in.” A tall bearded dwarf said wiping his hands on an oily rag.  
“Ivaldi!” Tyr barked happily down at the tan dwarf. If his armor wasn't so filthy, Laufey could swear it was more intricately designed than Tyr’s.  
“I tell you what you’s a sick son of a bitch.” The dwarf laughs while pointing a finger at the God of War. “I thought my traps were cruel, but I’ve got to stop underestimating the wickedness your kind are known for.”  
Tyr chuckled, he turned to look back at Laufey for only a moment before returning to Ivaldi. She assumed to make sure she was still behind him, she knew better than to wander off in here. “I assure you it’s nothing the intended audience can’t handle.”

“Did your boys finished it?” Tyr said in a slightly softer voice. A somberness suddenly overcame Ivaldi’s face. “I uh, I couldn't get through to them. They are dead set on making it for him. What can I even say to convince them otherwise?.” Ivaldi said softly, almost as if he didn't want anyone but Tyr to hear him. 

“Princess.” Tyr turned to face Laufey. “Be a sweet thing and fetch me one of those gears over there.”  
Laufey turned to where he was motioning her to go. Across the room sat multiple chains and gears all ready to be constructed into… into, something? She wasn't sure. Ivaldi took a moment from his pained expression and pulled his lips into a poor excuse for a smile as he dipped his head into a bow of respect to her. She returned the gesture to the dwarf and nodded once to Tyr as she made her way over to the boxes. She could hear the two men continue a whispered conversation as she walked away from them. 

The gears were massive, 3 times her size. Laufey wondered how she was supposed to bring one of these back to Tyr? As she scanned each one she noticed a wooden crate with the lid slightly ajar. On top of the lid sat blueprints of two massive wolves along with the sun and the moon. There were arrows pointing in many directions, everything written on the paper was in the strange messy runes only dwarfs knew how to read. While looking down onto the crate she got a peek at what was inside. Smaller gears! Not much bigger than her own hand! Tyr would often test her not just in her strength, but also her cunning. This may have been one of those tests. She quickly pushed open the lid and retrieved a small silver gear in her hands and made her way back to Tyr and Ivaldi. Tyr has his hand placed on the dwarf's shoulder as he spoke to him. As Laufey got closer they both simultaneously looked at her. Did she do something wrong?  
“I have the gear.” She said firmly. Nervous at the way they were looking at her, but still proud of how she ‘solved’ this puzzle he gave her. 

Tyr looked at the pile of massive gears across the room, then back to the small one in her hands, and finally to Ivaldi standing flabbergasted before them. She knew it, she made a mistake, she should have retrieved one of the bigger geared for them. She felt like a fool. Ivaldi puffed a quick blow of air from his nose before he slid his index finger underneath to rub his nostrils.  
Tyr brought his hands together underneath his sleeves for a split second, before a burst of joyful laughter erupted from his lungs. It filled the large room so suddenly a few of the workers dropped their instruments and paused to turn and face the three of them.  
Laufey didn't know if she should join him or cry. She does her best to remember Tyr’s lessons on tempering her emotions. She would be so quick to cry when they first began their journey together. Maybe it was because of how young she was, or maybe it was the news of Bergelmir’s death. The moment Laufey left Jotunheim she found herself carrying around a crushing weight on her back. The slightest misstep or loss of balance would cause her to succumb to the weight, allowing it to crush her. She must have been a nightmare for Tyr to handle in the beginning. Nevertheless, he showed her only kindness and patience during her moments of weakness. Allowing her to express herself before teaching her ways to temper her feelings. _‘In order to be a great warrior, you must learn to control your emotions. Retain them, they are what makes you-you. But you must find your center princess.’_  
Laufey stood there in front of Tyr and Ivaldi, the gear held firmly in her hands. She would not cry, if she made a mistake she would suffer the consequences. “I’m, sorry.” She finally admitted. This was turning out to be the worst birthday of her life. 

“My child.” Tyr said “You have nothing to be sorry about. In fact, you've done well. Truly I must say. You continue to surprise me.” He said placing a gentle hand on her head, petting her hair lovingly. “Ivaldi, I changed my mind on the axe, how about a knife instead?”  
“A knife?” The dwarf questioned. “You sure a knife? You just told me your plan required an axe?”  
The god of war kept his eyes looking happily into Laufey’s. Was, was he proud of her? She felt her heart swell with joy and pride as a smile brought her cheeks up to her ears.  
Ivaldi took the gear from her hands and walked off towards his working area. Grumbling something underneath his breath. 

* * *

 

“Dinner is ready princess,” Tyr said standing over a plate covered with a cloth napkin. Laufey tilted her head slightly at the oddity before her. “I thought you said no more tests for the rest of the day.” She said. Tyr chuckled as he sat down across from her and folded his elbows onto the table and rested his chin in his interlocked knuckles. “No more tests.”  
Laufey pulled the napkin away and saw one of Idunn’s apples before her. Hollowed out and filled with honey, nuts sprinkled on top. Laufey couldn't remember the last time she tasted honey, let alone an apple! For the past 5 years, Tyr had been training her outside and forcing her to live off the lands of Midgard. Her diets were whatever she hunted and grew in a garden she alone had to maintain. Fruit didn't grow as quickly as root vegetables, so she would rarely take the time and grow it. Only through her adventures would she stumble upon something sweet to tantalize her senses.  
“Happy birthday Laufey,” Tyr said extending out one of his hands. In it was a freshly carved knife wrapped in a yellow cloth. It shined the same way the gear did in her hand. It was so light and small, perfect for her she thought. Her life for the past few years was nothing but fighting, fighting the elements, fighting Tyr’s stone men, fighting the voice in her head that told her to hate the god she grew to love - who called her ‘princess’ yet put her through all this training. Was this why mother wept for her on the day of her departure? Laufey felt her eyes begin to swell with tears over the joy in her heart for the sudden gesture of normalcy Tyr was giving her. She was getting better at controlling her emotions, but deep down she desperately wanted to go back to living a normal life back at the palace. Carefully, she placed the knife down next to the apple and ran over to hug the God of War. Tyr engulfed her in his massive arms and held her still for a few moments as she unleashed her tears while hidden in his chest. She remembers her father’s hugs, Tyr's weren't the same, but this was all she had now.  
“I believe a fly is after your gift princess,” Tyr whispered into her ear. Thankfully pulling Laufey away from sinking down into her grief over her father’s passing. Tyr lifted her chin up with his hand and placed a kiss on the top of her forehead before nudging her back to her apple. Laufey gathered her emotions together and steadied her mind, she's getting too emotional she told herself. When she and Tyr first began traveling around Midgard together she was still so young. The sudden shift from a warm, full, and loving family to a stern boot camp-like environment caused her emotional whiplash. Laufey was desperate for the comforting feeling of a family, but no matter how much she would try to pull an emotional attachment out of the God of War. Laufey knew he loved her, but he never quite showed it in a way she assumed one would. He would so often push back against her and leave her devoid of fatherly love and comfort. She sat down and began eating silently, Tyr quickly folded his hand into his sleeves and sat motionless while she ate. She decided she would take her time with the treat, savoring each bite as if it would be the last time her tongue tasted something this delicious in a long time.  
After licking the final few drops of honey off the plate she wiped her sticky hands on the apron of her dress before picking up the knife Tyr gave her. Her bright blue eyes reflecting back at her in the spine of the blade. To think she would ever get this excited over something as simple as a knife and apple? The memories of her life in the castle were still fresh in her mind, even though she was beginning to find gaps in what life was really like living like royalty. 

“Laufey our time is almost up I’m afraid,” Tyr said as he unfolded his hands.  
Laufey tucked the knife inside the pocket of her dress. “You're going back to a different realm?”  
“Not quite.” He said with a smile. “I have something important I must do, sadly cannot bring you with me on this journey. So instead I have asked some, friends, to watch over you…-”  
“I’m a little old for a babysitter,” Laufey said with a sarcastic smile.  
Tyr chuckled as he stood up from his chair and walked over to her. Gently touching the top of her head. “Think of them more like family. They will keep you company and occupy your time until I return.”

* * *

“Look Tyr, I respect yah ‘n all. Knowing you, you's probably have some big elaborate plan all set in motion and we're just pawns on your, eh, what was the future game you were telling us about? ‘Chess’ board?” A short middle-aged dwarf said. His skin was pale pink and covered in soot, oil stains, and multiple bruised red blisters all throughout his neck.  
“Brok,” Tyr laughed. “You two are far from pawns, more like my bishops.”  
“I don’t remember what those do, but sure,” Brok said rolling his eyes. 

Late last night, before Laufey went to bed underneath the stars, Tyr told her she would be living under the care of two blacksmiths. Brothers that just recently created something that caused their popularity to explode. Tyr said their business boomed and the two could use a set of hands to help around their shop. Laufey was more than happy to abide by this. She heard how rich these two men were, maybe she would be spending her nights back in a feathered bed and eating sweets and warm bread?

Laufey stood silently next to a second, taller dwarf. He was more handsome she thought to herself. His hair didn't curl like the other's did. Instead, it was long, luscious, and held back by two thin braids. She peeked up at the dwarf who noticed her gawking at him. Shyly she offered this kind looking young man a friendly smile.  
A wash of disgust fell over his face as he rolled his eyes at the sight of her.  
“Tyr this ridiculous!” He said moving away from Laufey and over to the side of his brother Brok. “We don’t have time to watch over orphans!” He gestured a lot with his hands whenever he spoke Laufey noticed.  
“Look, like my brother said, I’m sure you have your ‘reasons’ for this. But the answer is no. I just escaped being an apprentice to my…” The tall dwarf stalled, almost as if something immediately irritated him. “My…- our father. I don’t need one myself. Besides, she's a… you know.” His eyes grew wide as he tilted his face towards Laufey. From his lips, he mouthed the word ‘giant.’ 

Laufey stood flabbergasted at the tall Dwarf.  
He, he hated her.  
Throughout all of her life, everyone she’s ever met had shown her love, kindness, and a respect her queen mother told her was appropriate for her bloodline. Even in these past few years training with Tyr not once did he ever speak to her like this. Even while throwing punches aimed directly at her vital organs or forcing her to meditate under a sub-zero waterfall that caused her body to scream, he would speak to her sweetly and softly.  
This - this dwarf may, in fact, be the first person to ever disrespect her in front of her face. Laufey wanted to narrow her eyes viciously at the no longer handsome young man. But out of respect for Tyr along with her mother’s lessons on courtesy, she did her best to keep a still expressionless face. 

“Sindri…” Tyr said sternly, still wearing his normal jolly smile. “I believe the two of you owe me quite a bit. Consider both of your debts paid in full if you do this for me.”  
Brok unfolded his arms as his thick eyebrows surge to the top of his head.  
“Wait you mean it!?”  
“Brok, no.” Sindri snapped quickly at his brother. “Tyr…-”  
Laufey continued trying to withhold her emotions as the dwarf let loose another onslaught of reasons on why she would ruin his life if they kept her around. She felt her face grow hot as beads of sweat were suddenly felt on her cheeks.  
“Woah, kiddo!” Brok interrupted his brother before he continued. Just then the three men all stared at her with a different flavor of horror adoring each of their faces.  
“Damn it Sindri you made her cry!” Brok smacked the back of his taller brother’s head, reaching up onto the tips of his toes in order to hit him. Sindri flinched a sound of annoyance as he rolled his eyes.  
“Princess.” Tyr knelt before her, embracing both her shoulders with his soft hands. “It has been a long day, why don’t you run off and get some fresh air?”  
A flush of embarrassment overcame her when she realized what had just happened, she was crying.  
“Ugh, this is exactly what I’m talking about,” Sindri said.

She was suddenly so mad at herself. Why did this random dwarf’s words cause her to forget Tyr’s lessons? She had to rectify this, she had to show Tyr, as well as this dwarf, how grown up she was. With a deep breath, she wiped her eyes and stared at the two brothers, Laufey was determined to face this challenge head-on. A grin pulled Tyr’s beard up to his ears as he backed away from Laufe, giving her room.  
“It is a pleasure to meet the two of you.” She said in a way the mirrored her mother’s poise and courtesy whenever she spoke to guests. “My name is Laufey, Tyr tells me I’m to be living with you from now on.”  
Brok puffed air out from his nose as he smirked at Laufey. “The pleasure’s all mine yer highness. Name’s Brok, you’ll be sticking with me seeing as I’m the older and more experienced of the two of us.” Only then did Sindri unfold his arms and join in this little exchange.  
“Oh, that’s rich,” he said.  
“That there’s Sindri, he’s pissed off 'cus he thinks yer going to interfere with his time alone with the ladies.” Sindri rolled his eyes at the introduction his brother gave him.  
“But that’s not gonna be the case,” Brok said as he placed a warm, dry hand on Laufey’s shoulder. “‘Cus I’m thinking of unloading a shit ton of work on yah.”  
Suddenly, a wicked smile crept its way onto Sindri’s face.  
Tyr held out his Bifrost, nodding to her once with closed eyes. His usual way of saying farewell to her before he disappeared.  
“Oh ho ho ho, boy do I have plans for you. Kid, welcome to the wonderful world of unpaid internship!” Brok laughed as he hauled Laufey into his side and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

**Author's Note:**

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